After the Rain
by Violin
Summary: Six hundred years into the future, Alex Browning is the only magical person left. A person whose origins are a mystery, everyone knows that he's the only person who can stop the world from it's impending doom, and he's suddenly gone missing... Where? To t
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Cassandra Stratton slunk out of bed and groaned softly. It was 2:30 in the morning, and her stomach still hadn't let her fall asleep. That's the way it always was at birthdays, you see. She ate far too much cake and then didn't sleep. You'd think she'd learn, but she never did. Cake was like that, especially if it was chocolate.

Cassandra headed down the kitchen stairs, all the while thinking about the previous evening. It had been Alex's 16th birthday, and he had loved it, though he hadn't shown it as plainly as he might have. He had loved his gifts, loved the food (which wasn't entirely unusual), and most of all, he had loved the company: all the people in the class and more had been invited. But through all the merriment, she could tell something was different about him. Not just different, but changed. The party had started right after he'd gotten there, so she hadn't gotten a chance to ask him about it, but that didn't stop her from noticing it in the small things. Like the amount of weight he'd lost compared to how tall he'd gotten, the bags under his eyes, and most of all, how much quieter he seemed to be. He didn't laugh as much, didn't joke as much, didn't smile his crooked smile nearly as often. She wondered if it had anything to do with the month he'd been gone at the Williams'. Normally he came back only complaining about how his uncle had taken even less notice of him than the last time, but this time was different. He had barely spoken, let alone any whining.

__

Creak! She reached the landing to the second floor, as the bottom stair had just announced. She started down the next flight, ignoring the sitting room to the left of her, when someone spoke.

"Cass? Is that you?" came the soft voice of Alex himself.

Cassandra took her foot from the stair. "Yeah, it's me Alex. Why aren't you asleep? You look unhealthy enough as it is," she said, only partly joking.

"I couldn't sleep. Not that that's unusual anymore," he added quietly, his voice bitter. "Why are _you _awake?"

"I was going downstairs to get something for my stomachache. I couldn't sleep either."

"Ah, yes; the Birthday Cake Syndrome. I should have known," he said, naming his term for her long time habit and giving her a ghost of a grin. "Come here, I want to show you something."

She hesitated, not really sure whether she wanted to see whatever it was. _Why_ she couldn't say, but she had a feeling of foreboding she couldn't place.

"Best friends since kindergarten and you still don't trust me? C'mon Cass, you know me better than that," he said, trying to sound hurt and failing miserably. She walked toward him and he caught her hand, leading her in front of him, where the window was wide open.

Outside it was storming. Overhead, dark clouds swirled, not yet yielding rain. Every once in a while, lightening would flash across the sky, revealing the trees below that swayed in the wind. Then she noticed something: what looked like golden mist was falling, very subtly. It looked as if very fine glitter was being sprinkled from the heavens, very lightly. Cass felt her breath catch in her chest.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alex asked her, laying his chin on her head. She didn't reply, as she felt there was no real need to. They stayed that way for a while, just two friends watching the night sky, though for how long, neither could say.

"Alex?" she asked after a while.

"Hmm?"

"What happened at your uncle's house? You can tell me, you know. Best friends since kindergarten, remember?"

Alex sighed. "Nothing, Cass. Nothing at all," he said, though she knew he wasn't being honest.

She didn't reply, just stood there a while more, looking out into ever darkening skies. Finally, "Alex, do you know what that glittery golden stuff is? I've never seen anything like it..." she trailed off.

"No, I don't know what is...it is strange though..."

Cass shivered. It _was_ strange, and now she knew why she'd had the feeling of foreboding. Something about the mist wasn't quite right... "I'm getting a weird vibe off it. Does it seem...do you think it means something?"

"I don't know," he said again, "But it was almost as if it… _called _me out to look at it."

Cass nodded, biting her lip.

They fell silent once more, and they stayed together at the open bay window for a long time, their shadows melded together to form one misshapen figure. The golden mist, which had been falling very softly before, slowly intensified in it's falling rate, until the air was thick with it. It rested in the clouds and the trees, making them look strangely surreal. The clouds no longer looked intimidating, but almost dreamlike, and the trees swayed in the wind even harder, making the strange glitter shower the grass below. Even through her unease about the mysterious golden mist, Cass found herself unbelievably content and relaxed.

"Good night, Cass," Alex said after a while, taking his chin off her head and tearing his eyes away from the storm, breaking the spell that had seemed to envelope them.

With that, he left, silent as a ghost, never once looking back to see her still standing by the window. Behind her, the rain began to fall.


	2. When It Rains

****

Chapter 1

More than five hundred years had passed since Harry Potter, the hero of that age and beyond, had managed to defeat Voldemort. The world was peace once more, and things went back to normal. Sort of.

It wasn't immediately noticeable, but as more and more time passed, the Wizarding race became virtually indistinguishable from people they had once called Muggles. More and more magical folk married non-magical folk, and eventually, the blood was diluted, in a manner of speaking. Now, people weren't Muggles or Wizards - they were neither and both at the same time. People had magic etched into their very being, rather than having it flow through their veins. Not enough to harness it with a wand, but enough to do small things without noticing. Small cuts and bruises were healed by their bodies themselves, and people could continue small tasks using their minds for a short amount of time without the help of their hands. But only for a small amount of time, and only small tasks. Thoughts could sometimes pass between people who were really close, but Quidditch was no longer played, as the art form of building a broomstick had been long since lost, and the ancient school called Hogwarts no longer taught Transfiguration and Charms, but Math and English instead. As explained before, no true witch or wizard had been born for more than a century. Until Alex came along, that is.

Cass sat contemplating all this as she piled ketchup on her sausages. Everyone's magical power were tested before you entered kindergarten (although she didn't see the point, as everyone's was almost the same anyway) along with their IQ. Her own had been fairly high on the normal scale, as had her brother's, but Alex's was off the scale. Alex was the first wizard to be born in over a hundred years, and everyone knew it too.

How that could have ever happened, no one knew, because no one knew who Alex's parents were, or where they were. He had simply been found on the doorstep of a Richard Williams, barely a week old. Tests had been run, and as it turned out, he was related to Mr. Williams not so distantly. The only question was how. The only relatives Richard Browning had was a half sister named Sara he hadn't seen in a decade. His parents had died many years earlier, and he had no cousins or other siblings. Several fruitless searches only managed to turn up the fact that Sara had virtually dropped off the earth several years earlier, and had never been seen since. It was even a mystery as to how Alex had gotten on the doorstep in the first place.

She often pondered this, but didn't ever speak of it to him, and it never changed their friendship in the least. She picked at her eggs a little longer, still wondering what on earth had happened the night before. She sensed it had something to do with Alex, but she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind as her twin brother Cary walked in, scratching his head and yawning.

"Something wrong?" he asked, stopping as he caught a flash of her thoughts.

Cass told him about the night before, and the strange mist that had so unsettled her.

"Well, that's a bit strange, isn't it?" he said, helping himself to an omelet.

"No, really?" she asked, sarcastically. "Is that all you have to say about it?"

Cary ignored her first remark. "Well, what do you want me to say? I've no idea what it was, but I know it's nothing to get so excited over. Natural Magic occurs all the time."

"Yes, but have you ever read about it happening like that? About it taking that form?" she said, picking up her fork again.

"Well, no," he admitted, "But what makes you think you can read about everything? Humans haven't solved half the mysteries out there, and I don't think they ever will, the rate we're going."

Cass didn't respond. Outside, Alex was walking in the garden, bending over something which she assumed was a flower of sorts, something that had always interested him.

"Mmm, Cass, I have to say, these pancakes are really good," he said, taking another off the plate in front of him. Cass and Cary's parents left for their workplace long before they ever got up, so Cass had taught herself to cook long ago, a talent her brother had been most thankful for.

"What do you want?"

"I have to want something to pay a compliment?" he asked her.

"Yes."

"You're such a cynic," he snorted. "For your information, I was serious. It's always good, but today's is exceptional," he said, shoveling down another monstrous bite.

But Cass wasn't listening. She'd already pulled on her shoes and was presently making her way out to the garden.

Alex was still bent over the rosebush, as if there was something fascinating about it.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked, as she approached.

"Come here and see for yourself," he said, waving her over.

She gasped. The roses were normal, but the water droplets on them were golden. "Is that what I think it is?" she asked.

"I think so," he said, looking amazed.

She sprinted back to the house, and ran into the kitchen panting. Cary, who was still wolfing down food, quirked an eyebrow over the rim of his juice.

"You have to see something," said Cass.

"Can it wait until I've finished my breakfast and had a shower?" he asked, unenthusiastically.

"No," she said as she pulled him to his feet and dragged him to the door.

"Cass! Can you wait for me to put on a shirt at least? I don't want to be parading around outside with nothing on other than my pajama pants! The girl next door has been eyeing me as it is!"

Cass let go as if he was too hot to hold on to. "By all means," she said.

He laughed and pulled his shirt from the chair he'd set it on. "Now come on," she said to him.

Outside, he stared at the water on the flowers and grass. "You really weren't making it up, were you?" he breathed.

"What do you think?"

"Always the cynic..." he mumbled, as he did every time she got sarcastic with him. Cary straightened and stared at Alex. "It's you, isn't it? You're the reason for it, aren't you?"

"How do you know that?" Alex asked him, very softly.

"Because ever since I first met you, I knew you would be different, as would your path in life. The fates revolve around you, the future hinges on your actions, and you know it as well as I," he said, staring into his friend's eyes unblinkingly.

Cass stared between her brother and Alex. Had Cary really just said that? How on earth would he - could he have known that?

"Yes Cass, I really did say that, and you know it too. I know you do." He was still looking at Alex, though his expression had softened. "I don't know what that glittery stuff is, but is important, and it will affect all of us, I can guarantee you." He looked down at his sister. They all went silent, looking at each other.

Alex shook his head. "You deserve far more credit than I give you credit for, my friend."

"You can say that again," Cary said to him, grinning.

"Don't be a prat, Cary," Cass said in exasperation.

"A little too late, don't you think?" he asked her, still grinning, as she swatted him playfully.

They walked back to the house, silent once again. Once in the kitchen, Cass made Alex sit down and eat. "You look too unhealthy to be skipping breakfast," she reminded him again. Cary went back upstairs and had his shower, and Cass took a nap as Alex continued to pick at the breakfast that had been forced upon him.

Alex sat watching Cass as she slept peacefully on the couch in the sitting room, wondering how on earth he had managed to get such good friends. Cary had been exactly right earlier with his estimation of Alex's future. Alex felt it himself. A time of change was drawing near, and he sensed he would be at the center of it. The only problem was that he knew his friends would be involved too, which he didn't want for the simple reason of protecting them.

Cass, with her sarcasm and dry humor, always picking at her brother, was gentle inside, he knew. She had a rough exterior, but she wasn't as tough as she seemed. She was still a girl, for all her grown-upish qualities. He wanted nothing more than for her to live a good life - to fall in love and raise a family, he knew she would be good at that. She was worried about him, he knew she was, but how could he tell her of his dreams of rushing, howling winds, and the falling through nothingness that left him so empty and meant so much, while not telling him anything at all? He would save her from such hopelessness, for now at least.

And Cary, the best friend he had (there were just some things he couldn't tell Cass), who buried himself in books and manuscripts, wanting only to know as much as what was out there. Who's kindness and perception amazed all who met him, and who was always there when he woke up in the night, sweating and crying. He had always been there, even if he hadn't understood what he was there for. He knew so much, and remembered so many facts, but knew so little of the world. Alex promised himself he would do as much as he could to keep it that way, because it was the fact that Cary was so naïve that made him different. Cary had dreams of accomplishing great things, going to places, and Alex wanted this for him because it was his dream.

The world was a darkening place, a fact that Alex was all too aware of, and he hoped and prayed silently, as he sat there watching Cass sleep, to whatever or whoever was up there watching, that these two people should never be a part of that darkness.

Cass drifted in and out of consciousness for a while before she finally decided she needed to wake up. Across the room from her, Alex was sleeping in an armchair, looking utterly exhausted. She smiled to herself as she realized how sore his neck would be when he woke up. She picked up the blanket she had been using and spread it over him, tucking in the corners slightly. In the background she heard the screen door slam shut.

"That's funny…" she murmured to herself, looking at the front door. She could have sworn there was someone there...

"Hello?" She moved away from the sleeping Alex and toward the door. She wasn't imagining things... there were footsteps running lightly around the house to the backyard. Pulling on her trainers, she followed them as quietly as she could. As she closed the door as quietly as she could, she realized with a sudden wave of dread that her feeling of foreboding had returned.

Upstairs, Cary was buried in his latest periodical, Prophesies Of the Last Millennium, a book so old he'd had to scrape off the dust that had collected on it's cover just to see the title, which was hard to make out in the first place. He had found it in the library, which he had just discovered a back room in that held a bunch of really old books he'd never read before. Some were over two centuries old. It had been like discovering a goldmine to him. He was about halfway through the book, having started it last night after the party. He was fascinated by it, he had to admit. According to it, there had been a room in the old Ministry of Magic that held recordings of old prophecies in glass bulbs. Department of Mysteries, it said.

Cary would have loved to explore that room, but he knew there was no way. The old Ministry of Magic had died out, and the secret of how it was found was lost along with it. If he could be the one to find it... He mused about this for a while, dreaming of possibilities until he snapped back into reality and turned his attention back to his book.

"Where have I heard the name Sybil Trelawney before?" he asked himself, looking at the figure of a willowy woman with lots of bangles and spectacles that made her eyes magnified. He gave up finally, resigning to the fact that he didn't remember.

"Three strangers from a different place will come, bearing knowledge beyond their years, yet unknowing of the ways of the world. They will discover themselves and the change the world as we know it in their brief time here. One will be a savior in his own time, and the others will save him..." he read the prophecy out loud to himself, hoping to trigger a memory or something. "Why does that remind me of something?" Cary swore under his breath. He hated it when there was something he just barely couldn't remember...

Cary was pulled out of his thoughts by a noise he couldn't quite place. There it was again... someone was calling his name. Was it Cass? No, he would have known for sure if it was Cass. She would have jst shouted. Book still in hand, he made his way down the three flights of stairs to the bottom floor that had the entrance hall , kitchen, parlor and sitting room. The back door was swinging.

Wondering who could have called his name, Cary made his way outside, past the initial hedges and deeper in the garden. Turning a corner, he could have sworn he saw a rustle of golden hair that was most definitely not his sister's or his friend's.

"Is someone there?" he called. No one answered, but he distinctly heard footsteps now. He hurried on, the book still clutched tightly in his hands.

Alex woke up sweating, with a crick in his neck and wondering how he'd allowed himself to fall asleep. He'd had a nightmare again, only the two he normally had were combined, for some reason he didn't understand…

"It's close," he muttered to no one in particular, not realizing what he'd just said himself.

He sat up, rubbing his neck and realized the blanket Cass had fallen asleep under was now on him. He smiled to himself, smoothing some of the wrinkles.

"Good friends indeed," he murmured.

Making his way into the kitchen, he pulled a cold pancake from that morning out of the cooling module and proceeded to munch on it. It was good even cold, he noticed. He froze when he heard footsteps. If Cass caught him eating out of the fridge again... But no one came inside. He could now hear whispering, and more footsteps. He moved slowly toward the door.

"Cass? Cary? Who's there?" More giggling.

Outside there was no one. If anything, it was far too calm and quiet. It was as if someone had turned off the sound. Then he heard the footfalls again, this time they were running. He followed them deeper into the heart of Mr. and Mrs. Stratton's extensive garden.

Cass slowed as she realized she was in the very center of their garden. She seen a swish of long golden hair, but she still didn't know who was trespassing on their property. "Probably those annoying neighbor kids," she muttered to herself, turning around and seeing her brother come hurtling out of one of the paths.

"Did you see -"

"I didn't see anyone. I only heard them running away, and I think I might have seen them swish their hair..."

"That's them," he muttered. "I don't like this..."

Cass shook her head. Overhead, thunderclouds were starting to form again and there was a very loud crash of thunder.

"That wasn't very nice, guys," came an irritated voice from behind them. They whirled around to see an aggravated looking Alex.

"Did you follow someone here too? Footsteps and giggling?" she asked him, brushing off his words.

"Don't play stupid, Cass. You're not very good at it."

"I'm not playing Alex! We were following someone too."

"Y-you were?" he asked, clearly unsure what to say. There was another clap of thunder and lightning streaked across the sky.

Alex looked up. "We'd better..." But whatever he was going to say was cut off, as another roll of thunder sounded. A single drop fell, evaporating strangely into vapor as soon as it hit the ground.

"What the -"

Another fell, and another. They were coming faster now, and all three noticed that the raindrops had that strange golden substance in them once more, only it didn't fall as a mist this time, but as part of the rain drops themselves.

One hit Cary on the shoulder, but instead of steaming, sparked and made a sharp cracking sound.

"What the hell -" said Cary again.

The rain was falling even faster, hitting all three of them repeatedly, filling the air around them with sparks and cracks. The rate it was falling intensified more and more, until they couldn't see anything other than a sheet of gold and the occasional colorful flash.

She opened her mouth to shout something at the boys, but the wind was knocked out of her as she was all of a sudden pulled off her feet and into the storm itself.

Around and around she swirled, her eyes unable to close but still not seeing anything. She was going faster and faster. Her ears were filled with laughter and screams, sounds of explosions and clapping, louder and softer, louder and softer, as she plummeted into nothingness. There was the sound of rushing wind trying to overpower it all, and she felt tears running down her cheeks from not being able to blink and going faster than she ever wanted to imagine.

She caught flashes of moments, speeding by too fast to really see, as if from someone's memory. They were distorted and blurred, or abstract and far too angular to be real. She plummeted faster and farther, and she lost all sense of time as everything went black.

The strangest feeling came over her: she had stopped in mid air, if that's what you could call it, and she felt tingling all over her body, kind of like the feeling she got when her foot fell asleep, only it was spread over her entire body. She felt like she was floating, though there was a feeling of gravel under her back and hips. Light burned against her eyelids, and she suddenly hurt all over with indescribable pain: the floating sensation was gone.

Opening her eyes, she found herself looking into the brightest, and most beautiful pair of green eyes she had ever seen.


	3. Red Moon

****

Chapter 2

Red Moon

Harry Potter stared down at the girl on the ground in front of him in disbelief. It had been the strangest thing he'd ever seen; the girl had materialized out of thin air, but she hadn't Aparated, he knew that for sure. It had almost been as if some strange golden mist had painted her, very slowly, trickling down through the air and creating her as it went. She was pretty he noticed, but she was also looking like death.

The weirdest noises had accompanied her appearance as well. Unearthly screaming, bombs going off, clapping, and laughing. There were more, but he hadn't been able to place them.

She lay there for a few minutes, unmoving and looking deathly pale. He bent over her, wanting to know if she really was dead (it seemed like just the thing to happen these days), and looked at her face and chest carefully. Suddenly, her eyes opened, and her chest heaved.

His breath caught as he stared into the strangest, and most striking pair of eyes he had ever seen. They were very dark, darker than any he had ever seen, and they had streaks of blue in them that seemed to… shimmer? "Are you ok?" he finally managed to say.

She just stared at him, unblinking, as if she couldn't quite comprehend what she was seeing. She was breathing heavily, as if she'd just ran a long distance, and for the first time, he realized her clothes were shredded as if worn out beyond repair and belonged to a beggar. She was just barely covered, he noticed, blushing crimson. 

She opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She was unable to talk, it seemed.

"It's alright, don't worry. We'll figure it out," he murmured to her as she suddenly looked as if she wanted to cry. He stood up and took off his cloak, gently putting it around the girl's shoulders. 

"Ron! Hermione! Get over here! You have to see this…" he yelled over his shoulder at his friends who had been right behind him only a moment before, as the girl continued to stare at him with bewilderment.

~

Draco Malfoy stood watching the scene before his eyes. There was a girl, who had suddenly appeared out of no where, laying on the ground in front of Potter, barely wearing anything, as her clothes were completely ruined. Her lower lip began to tremble and Potter looked at her with what was clearly sincere concern. Draco would have gagged at the expression in the Golden Boy's eyes, but he was too wrapped up in staring at the girl as well. There was something about her…

Potter stood up and took off his cloak, putting it around her shoulders as he said something that was obviously meant to be reassuring. Draco knew it wouldn't be the least bit comforting, but at least the fool was doing something. He stopped leaning against the wall of Zonko's and took a step toward them, finally deciding he couldn't just leave the poor frightened girl in the care of an idiot like Harry Potter.

"Hey, Potter! How about getting the girl out of the cold, before she freezes? She already looks as if she's going to die any second," he smirked, as he walked over.

Harry's face frowned with obvious distaste. "What do you want, Malfoy? I don't need your help," he snarled.

"Oh yeah? Then why does she look as if she's going to faint any second? This isn't about you or me. This is about getting this girl out of this weather before she freezes to death," he said acidly.

Harry frowned even deeper, conflicting emotions playing across his face as he thought about whether he should actually accept help from Draco Malfoy. "Fine. Help me lift her up and we'll carry her into the Three Broomsticks," he finally grumbled.

Draco smirked once again. Oh how he loved messing with Potter… He walked closer, looking at the girl closely for the first time. Her eyes met his and he felt his breath catch in his chest. What was it about her? He offered a small smile, trying not to scare her even more. Harry stared at him, thinking he must be dreaming. Had Draco Malfoy actually just acted like a human being?

"Harry! Come look at this!" Ron Weasley practically knocked Harry over as he ran into him. He noticed Draco seconds later, and snarled. "What's this ferret doing talking to you?" he asked his best friend, who was standing next to him. "And who's this?" he asked, finally noticing the girl on the ground, his voice softening considerably.

"Weasley, could you possibly not run your words together so we can actually understand them? I realize this is hard for someone who has an IQ as low as yours, but all the same…" Draco drawled, rolling his eyes.

"Sod off, Malfoy. We don't need the sarcasm," Harry said icily. He turned to Ron "Can it wait? We really need to get this girl out of the cold. She's already chilled as it is, and the sooner it happens, the better for her."

"Where did she come from?" Ron asked, his voice filled with some unknown meaning.

"We don't know yet. She kind of just…appeared…" Harry responded.

Ron was silent. "There's a boy, a few yards away, the same off. We don't know how he got there, but all of a sudden, there he was…" he trailed off, but the two other boys knew what he meant nonetheless. 

"Well, then I guess we'd better get them both inside, don't you think?" Draco quirked an eyebrow.

"We'll deal with the girl, you go help Hermione with this boy you found, ok?" Harry told Ron, who stalked off, grumbling.

Draco bent down, and said to the unknown girl, "You'll be alright, understand? We're going to help you, no need to worry…" Harry was startled at the gentleness of Malfoy's voice. Was Draco Malfoy actually concerned about someone other than himself? There's a switch, he thought to himself. Malfoy seized her arms, and pulled her to her feet, only to have her fall down in a heap at his feet, crying even harder. It was clear that she would not be able to walk into the pub by herself.

"Oh, great work Malfoy. Now she's crying even harder," Harry said, exasperated.

"Bugger off, Potter."

Both kneeled down beside her, Draco handing her a handkerchief, and took hold of her, gently pulling her up in the first act of teamwork ever to occur between them. They walked a few steps, struggling to find a position that wouldn't hurt her too much. Finally, five very long minutes later, Harry pointed to a bench a few feet away, to which Draco nodded. 

"This would be much simpler if just one of us carried her, and the other just made sure she doesn't fall." 

"Alright, that sounds better. Do you want the honours, or are you going to let me?" Harry panted.

Draco smirked. "I will, of course. Like I'd actually entrust a human being to you, of all people."

"Said the Death Eater's son," Harry mumbled darkly. He looked at the girl, to find her shivering even more, her lips turning blue. "Whatever, it doesn't matter. Just as long as she doesn't spend any more time out here."

Draco smirked and picked her up with little difficulty. Harry frowned slightly, but Draco didn't notice, because he was staring at the girl again. Her eyebrows were knitted in confusion and she mouthed "Death Meater". Her look of confusion abruptedly turned into one of sheer amazement and she stared back at the boy who was carrying her.

"Death Meater?" Harry asked, utterly bewildered.

"Death Eater, you imbecile. She mouthed 'Death Eater'," Draco drawled, rolling his eyes. Harry frowned some more as he tucked the cloak even tighter around her.

"Alright Potter, let's go before all three of us freeze to death."

~

Stepping inside the brightly lit pub, Draco began searching for a vacant table immediately, noticing with annoyance the stares he was attracting. Maybe they're staring because you're actually walking in with Potter, came a nasty voice from the back of his mind. Or maybe, they're staring because I'm walking with a beautiful girl in my arms, who isn't wearing anything other than Potter's cloak, he answered, smirking.

Harry pointed toward a booth in the back, which seemed to be away from prying eyes. Draco nodded, already moving through the crowd, all the way to the back. Setting her down as gently as he could, he bent down and took her hands in his, rubbing them furiously. It looked painful from the initial look on her face, but then it softened into one of comfort.

"Don't just stand there Potter! Go get her a butterbeer! If anything will warm her up, that will," Draco said, looking thoroughly exasperated at Harry's momentary stupidity. Harry blushed and hurried away in the direction of Madam Rosmerta.

"Not exactly the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, is he?" he muttered to no one in particular. The girl gave him a look that quite clearly said, "don't be mean".

"Got quite the facial expressions going, haven't you?" Draco asked, trying not to laugh. Malfoys didn't laugh. They chuckled maliciously, or snickered snidely, but never laughed out of pure mirth. That Draco Malfoy felt like doing just that was saying something indeed.

She grabbed his hands with as much strength as she could muster in them (which wasn't much) and firmly put them on her blue cheeks, obviously hoping he would do the same to them as he did her hands. Shrugging, he began to slowly rub her cheeks in hopes of getting them unfrozen.

This is slightly awkward, he thought to himself wryly.

"Can't even keep your hands off her, Malfoy? I should have known…" Harry said, referring to Draco's less than virginal reputation, and making him jump.

"But - but she -"

"Yeah, I bet, Malfoy," Harry spat, setting the steaming drink in front of her. "Go on, drink it," he urged her, seeing her hesitation.

"It's okay to drink, it isn't poisoned. Potter doesn't do well enough in Potions to kill you," Draco snickered. Harry glared at him.

The girl froze. Her eyes became wide, and she started muttering things to herself. She looked up at Harry and stared. Motions? She mouthed at him, looking utterly mystified.

"Motions?" Now Harry was the one confused.

Draco rolled his eyes again and sighed. "Honestly Potter, I think you need to get yourself some new glasses, because the ones you have don't seem to be working for you. She said, or tried to say, 'Potions'."

"Why would she have that sort of reaction to the word 'Potions'? It isn't as if Hogwarts is the only school who teaches it." Harry turned to Draco. 

"What am I, a bloody Oracle?! How the hell would I know?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake Malfoy, sod off! It was a rhetorical question! I never really expect you to know anything. If I did, I'd be just as big an idiot as you!"

"I'm an idiot? Isn't that just a bit of a double standard?! You're the one that tried getting past that blasted three-headed dog in first year, tried to kill a bloody basilisk by yourself in second, entered yourself in the Triwizard Tournament in fourth, even though you were way over your head -"

"At least I wasn't the one who got injured by a hippogriff by doing the very thing Hagrid told you not to! And I seem to recall winning the bleeding Tournament, anyway!"

The two continued to bicker, neither noticing the way the girl had begun to frantically spin in her seat, as if searching the crowd for anything she might recognize.

~

Cass was scared, and she wasn't too proud to admit that. She'd long since realized that denying your fear only made things worse. Admitting it allowed you to concentrate your efforts on getting out of the frightening situation, even if there wasn't a clear way to begin with. 

She assessed her situation. She didn't know where she was. She couldn't speak. She couldn't walk by herself. The only two people she was with were two boys she didn't even know, who couldn't stop arguing for even a few seconds. Her clothes were ruined. She was colder than she's ever been in her life. She didn't see her bother or Alex anywhere. She'd just heard the words 'Death Eater' and 'Potions', both of which were considered ancient vocabulary by any stretch of the imagination. Hogwarts stopped teaching Potions as a subject over a hundred years ago, and Death Eaters virtually ceased to exist shortly after the Great War ended, she thought to herself. Speaking of the Great War, where had she heard the names 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' before? They had to be connected…

She looked at the still-squabbling boys. They were about as different as night and day, from what she could see. The one named Malfoy had white-blonde hair that fell neatly into his eyes. His eyes were silver-grey, and he had very pale skin. He had a nicely toned body, but his hands looked as if he'd never done any work in his life. In contrast, the one named Potter was slightly shorter, had untidy jet-black hair, and very bright green eyes. He was as thin as the other one, but his skin was a shade darker and he had a lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead, just barely visible through his bangs. His mouth was much friendlier than Malfoy's, appearing as if he smiled most of the time, when Malfoy's looked like he was forever frowning. And they keep bickering! She wanted to slap the both of them and tell them to grow up, but she was still unable to move, and her voice wasn't any better off. 

She sighed inwardly. This situation obviously wasn't going to be resolved any time soon - no matter how many times she admitted to herself she was frightened.

Wait - a lightning bolt shaped scar? Potter and Malfoy?! Her brain began to work frantically as everything fell into place. But - but, it couldn't be…could it? That's impossible! Her normally rational brain screamed at her, just as she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

~ 

"Oh, bloody hell!" Harry stared down at the limp form of the girl, who was now on the ground unconscious.

Malfoy bent down and lifted the girl up. "Ok, Potter, I think it's time we just bring her back to Pomfrey."

Harry nodded, just as his two friends staggered over, carrying a boy with sandy blonde hair that looked to be as tall as even Ron.

"Do you two think you could possibly attract more attention?!" Draco hissed at them. Even more people were staring at them than when he and Potter had entered, he noted with irritation.

"Would you care to find out?" Hermione asked him, her eyes flashing. 

Draco unconsciously took a step backwards. Granger had always intimidated him slightly. With Weasley or Potter, it's was an empty threat half the time, but when Granger threatened to hex you into oblivion, she meant it, and she was certainly capable of it as well, which made it twice as bad. She smirked, making Draco's blood boil.

"Just set him down on the bench," Harry murmured, nodding at the other side of the table. The boy looked very bored, Harry noticed. It looked almost comical.

Harry walked over to him. "What does he have in his hand?" he asked Hermione. 

"Some sort of book, but I really don't know what it is. He won't let it go," she answered, looking miffed.

"Granger, why do you always seem to think that you deserve a look at any book you come across? There are some, believe it or not, that you wouldn't, in a million years, want to see if you knew the contents," Draco told her.

Harry shoved the undrunk butterbeer towards the boy. "Here, drink this. It'll warm you up," he said, noting the boy's blue lips.

"Ron! Give up your cloak!" Hermione barked at him, attacking the clasp at his throat.

"Hermione - stop -" he struggled to say.

"Here," she said warmly to the boy, handing him Ron's cloak and looking smug.

"Why did it have to be my cloak?" he whined.

"Because mine wouldn't have fit him, and Harry's already given his up. Don't be selfish," she sniffed.

Draco snorted. "You're nearly a foot taller than her, and she still manages to get the better of you?"

"Sod off, Malfoy," he snapped.

The boy nodded his thanks to Hermione, a deeply worried look etched across his features. He slowly pulled the drink across the table to himself, still unsure. He lifted it to his lips and swallowed. Smiling slightly, he eagerly drank more.

Ron laughed. "Like that, do you?" The boy nodded vigorously and took a long gulp, draining the last of it.

"Malfoy, is she showing any signs of waking up?" Harry asked Draco, who was now situated with the girl in his lap, her head lying peacefully on his arm.

"What does it look like?"

Harry was about to say something back, which was undoubtedly sarcastic, but he noticed the boy had stopped drinking and was staring with wide eyes at the girl in Malfoy's arms.

He made some sort of strangled cry and seized the girl's hand, which was resting on the table. Grasping it, he looked like he wanted to cry with relief.

~ 

"Well, I reckon they know each other." 

"No, I reckon he just fell madly in love with her as soon as he saw her," Hermione snapped at Ron.

They were sitting at a table not far away, watching Harry and Malfoy bicker about the best way to get the two back to Hogwarts. The girl was still out cold, but now the boy was holding her, and Malfoy was pacing.

"Where do you think they're from?" Ron asked, ignoring her.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "Obviously the same place, but I really don't know."

Ron sighed. "Everything is so screwed up right now," he muttered, running his hand through his hair and looking much older than his sixteen years.

Hermione stared at her friend with growing concern. Ever since Sirius's death last year, and the start of open war with the Death Eaters, Ron wasn't the same person. Harry wasn't either, but this was something you expected at least. You can't lose your only family and not change. Ron on the other hand, had aged more in the past year than all the years of his life put together. He had grown up, years before he was supposed to.

She glanced over at the table, momentarily amused at the contrast between the four people, then cursed under her breath. "Why the hell don't they just quit bickering and figure it out?" she asked angrily.

Ron didn't bat an eyelash at her profanity. He was used to her swearing by now, though it had surprised him hugely at first. Since last year, she had started swearing almost as much as Harry and him. More than Harry and him. Truth be told, she probably had an even fouler mouth than Charlie did now, which was saying something because Charlie learned to swear from the colourful people who he worked with at the dragon camps. 

Over the summer holidays, she had come to stay at the Burrow for a month as usual. The second night she was there, she made the mistake of letting loose her impressive vocabulary in front of his mother when his dad had come home with news of more deaths. To say that Mrs. Weasley had been shocked would have earned the award for Understatement of the Year. Her face went red and she was completely speechless for an entire hour. Not that Harry and Ron hadn't been; if anything, they were more shocked than Mrs. Weasley. That was only the second time they had heard her swear like that, and they had convinced themselves at the time that they'd had a joint hallucination about the entire thing. In Hermione's defence though, she'd had the grace to look abashed at her own lack of self-control and had apologized profusely. Ron didn't think his mother would ever quite forgive her for that, nevertheless. She had never been a fan of profanity, and never would be.

Now, Ron just shrugged. He had become accustomed to it by now, and just assumed it was her release from the frustrations of the war. They all had their fixes, after all, why couldn't she have hers? 

Ron sighed, not willing to admit that Harry was being as big of a prat as Malfoy. Hermione's mouth thinned (giving her an uncanny resemblance to McGonagall, he thought), and she stood up, walking over to Harry and Malfoy with a very frightening expression on her face. Ron shivered; if she'd been looking at him like that, he'd be running as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

That was another thing that had changed about her. Before, she had been the one to hold back him and Harry, trying to prevent fights. Now, her fuse was even shorter than his, and it usually took him and Harry both to keep her from leaping at whatever poor fool had provoked her.

Ron swirled the remaining butterbeer around in his glass. It had always been his favourite drink, ever since he'd tasted it on his first trip to Hogsmeade in his third year. It had never failed to warm him up when he was cold, or cheer him up when he was depressed. Never… until now.

~

"Listen Malfoy, I don't care if you think I'm a moron, the fact is, we can't just let them sit here in the Three Broomsticks, feeding them Madam Rosmerta's food, however good it may be. For one thing, she has to close up some time."

"I know that, you thick-headed prat. I'm just wondering whether we should wait until it gets a little warmer."

"Malfoy, you ass, it won't get any warmer! It's already five in the afternoon!"

"So? The WWN said it would warm up."

"Malfoy, it's December. We're in Scotland. Does this mean anything to you? Because for someone who rags on everyone else for being stupid and inept, it really should."

Draco glared at Harry for a very long time, not willing to back down. He hated losing to Potter, even in the smallest of arguments. All of a sudden, Draco found himself looking at a very angry Granger, with his head stinging from an unexpected assault.

"What the hell was that for?" he swore, rubbing his head.

"For being a stubborn shit that refuses to admit he's wrong, even when it's painfully fucking obvious!" she growled at him, a very ugly expression on her face. She whipped around to face Harry. Draco cringed as she hit his jaw squarely with her small fist, his eyes widening with shock and a dark bruise springing up almost immediately.

"And you! There are more important things than bickering with Draco-fucking-Malfoy. I don't care how big of a bastard he is, you need to figure out a way to get these people back to the care of Madam Pomfrey! In case you haven't noticed, they can't talk, or even fucking walk! They don't even know where the hell they are, for Merlin's sake! We don't know if there is anything wrong with them, but if there is, you are wasting precious time arguing pointlessly with the biggest damned idiot known to mankind! It isn't like it'll make a difference! You two will never cease to argue as long as you draw breath, no matter who wins this little verbal match, or any other in the future, and I'll be damned if you two screw things up by this redundant bickering!"

Draco would have dearly loved to see Potter beaten up by a girl, but by the look on her face, she wasn't planning on stopping any time soon, nor was she planning on being gentle with him. If Potter looked a mess right now, just wait until Granger got through with him…

Cursing himself silently, Draco reached out and grabbed her around the waist. "Granger, get a hold of yourself. If you don't, you'll end up beating one of your best friends to bloody pulp. And as much as I would love dearly to see Potter in that kind of agony, I detest blood, and these are new shoes."

She looked at him shrewdly. "Let go," she growled, fighting him once again.

"I don't think so. Not with the way you're behaving. I'd be mad to do so," he scoffed

She bit, clawed and ripped at him to let go, but years of Quidditch training had not been for nothing. He held fast, though he would have a pale scattering of fine white scars on his left forearm for many years to come.

"A little help here, Weasley! She's your friend, not mine!" he snarled at the mute form of Ron, who was standing nearby, watching in amazement as she calmed down, quite unexpectedly.

"If you'll kindly release me, Malfoy, I would be very thankful."

Draco was all too happy to comply, as he really didn't want to have to hold her for very much longer.

"Thank you, for preventing me from doing something I would have deeply regretted," she told him, as gracefully as she could.

He smirked. "Not a problem. Anytime you decide to snap, just call me and I'll restrain you," he replied, sarcastically, "and, if you want to repay me anytime, my door is always open," he wagged his eyebrows at her, noting her willowy figure. Even if she was a Mudblood, she'd still be good -

"Not on your life," she growled, all grace gone.

"Alright, have you two decided how to get these two back or not?" Ron asked cautiously, interrupting them.

"No, but we have decided that it won't be getting any warmer today," Draco sighed, resigned.

Rubbing his temple, he said, "Why don't we just conjure a few stretchers and take them back that way? We can place warming charms on them to keep them warm, and it won't take as long as carrying them."

"That's brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, forgetting whom she was talking to. Over her head, he saw Harry distinctly mouth "Thank you" to him.

He nodded back tiredly, wondering briefly if this constituted a Wizard's Debt.

~ 

Cary played with a piece of Cass's jet-black hair while he watched two of the people fight with each other. The blond one was telling the black-haired one he was a moron. Cary would have liked to watch this, but under any other conditions. Right now, both he and his sister were in trouble, and they didn't know where Alex was. Why do we have to be at the mercy of people who are arguing about the weather? He thought irritably. Although he didn't know it, Cary felt the same way Cass had only a little while before. He wanted to slap some sense into the both of them.

He never had to, however, because at that precise moment, the girl with curly hair came over and hit them hard enough for everyone in the strange room. He involuntarily cringed. It looked like it hurt.

He looked down at his sister and frowned. She looked so vulnerable in her sleep, unlike the guarded expression she wore when she was awake. Cary knew very well that many guys at school and around the neighbourhood would have loved to date her, but they never knew how to approach her because she always seemed so forbidding to them. This was just as well, he thought, as he wasn't too keen on the idea of some guy with their paws all over Cass. He did want to her to fall in love some day, but he knew far too well how boys her age acted. He should, considering he was one of them.

Cary and Cass were, in reality, as different in looks as Malfoy and Potter had seemed to Cass earlier. So different, that people often wondered how they could possibly be related, not to mention twins. Cass was very pale, had black hair, and was very short and thin. Her eyes were startlingly dark, with streaks of bright blue in them, and she had a very long, jagged scar along her left forearm from an accident when they were younger. Cary was just the opposite: sandy blonde hair, light green eyes, and a tall, wiry figure that made people wonder about them even more: Cary was a good foot taller than his sister. He tanned very easily and had strong, large hands that dwarfed his sister's small, bony ones. Why did she have to be the one to get the good looks? He had asked himself irritably, over and over again through the last few years (although he never really meant it). Evidently, he never saw the numerous girls who drooled over his height and boyish grin.

He frowned again. That Malfoy character was looking at his sister with something that went far beyond polite concern, and he really didn't like it. From what he'd picked up so far, the guy had quite the reputation. Definitely someone he didn't want going near his sister, even if she did think she could take care of herself.

But Cary pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. Cass's face was alarmingly pallid and pale. From the looks of things, she was far worse off than him, and needed medical attention as fast as possible. He looked up just in time to see the redhead heading toward him, along with the other boys. They weren't arguing anymore; instead the one with the glasses looked dishevelled and bruised, and the blonde guy looked like he wished he were anywhere else.

Cary supposed this meant they were going to move them again, and pursed his lips. This was going to hurt.

~

The sky was darkening, and the wind was blowing much harder than it had before. The first stars were becoming rapidly visible along the horizon, and the moon was out, seemingly eerie in its bright red colour, making Harry wonder if tonight was going to be as significant as it felt. Trelawney had spent a good hour explains the moon and it's effects on things below it during the last class, talking about how bewitching the moon was said to be. He had laughed it off as usual, ignoring her warnings about a "life changing event under a blood-red moon", but now he shivered with apprehension. It was far too weird. Ron looked over his shoulder and sent him a dark look. He was thinking the same thing. He turned back and continued walking. 

About ten minutes later, he dropped back silently, and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Why in hell do you think Malfoy has bothered staying to help?"

"What do you mean?" 

"I mean that the Malfoy we know would normally not even stick around to make sure they were alright. Most likely, he'd laugh at us for helping them. The one in front of us has been around since you found the girl and not left. Something's in it for him, I'm telling you…" Ron said under his breath.

"Haven't you seen the way he looks at her? It's like he's genuinely concerned for her," Harry said, somewhat hesitantly.

Ron stifled a guffaw. "What do you mean, 'genuinely concerned'? This is Malfoy were talking about."

"Yes, but you didn't see the way he looked at her when we were bringing her into the pub. There's something here much more than just Malfoy's normal hunting prowess upon seeing a pretty girl, although I'm sure there's a little of that going on too. I don't want to believe it, but…" He trailed off, and they elapsed into silence.

A few minutes later, Ron said quietly, "The moon…"

"Yeah... and that's what worries me the most."

~ 

Draco shook his head. The girl floating beside him was _so _familiar, if only he could figure out why...

He looked at her again. She was very fragile looking when unconscious, he noticed. She had had a sardonic smirk attached to her face before, in a way that said she clearly forgot that it was there, but now she looked so much..._sweeter_. Draco smirked at the thought of himself using the word 'sweet', but even that thought did not distract his brain from how he knew this girl. It nagged at the back of his mind, and wouldn't let him be.

Surely there must be some explanation... It hit him like a bucket of ice water being dumped on him: this was the same girl who had mysteriously haunted his dreams for the last year, and wouldn't let him have even a night of rest. His eyes widened with the realization and his thoughts drifted back to the dreams he had tried to ignore for the last year.

_Draco was running through the Forest, faster than he ever had in his life. Something was chasing him, something he never in his life wanted a part of... He came to a clearing and stopped. Before him was a meadow, strewn with wildflowers and long grass, with a small, flowing stream not far away. The place resonated safety, and Draco felt instantly calmed. The water from the stream was cold and sweet, and dipping his hands in it for a second time, he caught a glimpse of a girl's reflection, staring at him._

He looked up and found himself looking at a girl who was utterly gorgeous_. She had a calm, serene look on her face and her eyes sparkled mysteriously at him. She had a simple, white dress on, that left little to the imagination about her figure, but he hardly noticed because he was too wrapped up in her face. He smiled softly at him, and brought a long, slender white hand up to stroke his cheek, creating goose bumps at her light touch. _

"Who are you?" he asked her, taking her hand in his.

She laughed gently, a bell-like sound that was almost musical. "You'll soon know," she whispered, slowly fading away into nothing, and leaving him alone, with only with the sound of her clear laughter ringing in his head.

Draco shook his head again, shaking slightly. That dream came to him every night, never going any further, and never leaving him anything but confused and frustrated. But now, at least, he knew that she had been right all those nights when she told him the same thing. Perhaps now he'd have some closure.

Draco frowned and corrected himself. _Too _right. She had been _too _right.

~ 

Deep in Cass's subconscious, she was dreaming, although in the back of her mind she knew this wasn't an ordinary figment of her imagination, like the purple, polka dancing bunnies she'd had a few nights before...

_Cass was walking down a road, with the wind roaring around her. She wasn't cold, but the moonlight was unnerving. Looking up, she noticed the moon was glowing red, and seemed to be the only thing that wasn't blurry. Around her were shadows that looked vaguely familiar, but only vaguely. Ahead was a castle, and in a second she was on the threshold, much faster than was possible, though she only registered this dimly._

There were colourful banners all around her, and she wondered at the emblems on them, because while they were slightly blurred, she thought them very beautiful in their own quaint way. But those were gone as quickly as they had appeared before her eyes, and she was moving again.

There was a great room, filled with floating candles and four very long tables. Her mind would have argued against the rationality of candles floating in midair normally, but the rational side of her brain seemed to be as asleep as the rest of her mind was awake and soaring.

In front of the tables was another, slightly grander, with chairs seated behind it. The centre chair was very tall, having an intricately carved back that reached higher than any man could hope to stretch.

No one was in the hall, as it seemed to her to be called, for surely, any room as large as this was supposed to be called a hall, and the silence reverberated through the air. Cass wondered fleetingly where all the people were that had filled the hall with such happiness a while ago. She got a very strong vibe off the place that was so empty now, and it was one that resounded through the dusty atmosphere with joy. But this question was lost from her thoughts as she found herself moving once more.

Now she was moving through a long corridor that seemed to be ages old. It was blurry as well, but she was sure that people had travelled it long before it could have been recorded. She found herself in front of a gargoyle, which jumped aside - again her logical side seemed to be asleep - and a spiral staircase appeared, which was rotating very slowly upwards.

In the blink of an eye she was up the stairs and through the door at the top.

The room was stunning; shaped circularly, it was covered floor to ceiling in bookshelves that held leather-bound books in all shapes and sizes, strange silver instruments she'd never seen, and other things she didn't recognize. Every once in a while, there would be a break in the shelves where portraits hung of various men and women. In a corner stood a beautiful golden cage, but whatever bird it normally held was gone to all appearances. There was a desk nearby, in front of a set of stairs that led up to more bookshelves, and behind it, was --

"Hello Ms. Stratton. You've seen the moon, I presume? Yes, a very strange night it is...and it will only get more bizarre as we go along, I'm afraid. No, don't shake your head; you know it in your heart. Things will never be the same ever again. It is your destiny."

Cass gaped at the old man who sat behind the mahogany desk. He vas very old, and had a beard and head of silver hair that fell all the way down his back and front. He had half-moon shaped glasses that sat on his very long and crooked nose. Behind them was a pair of bright blue eyes that had a depth to them that was age-old, and at the same time a mischievous sparkle in them that looked very young. He was by far the most interesting person she'd ever seen, which was really saying something considering some of her father's siblings...

However, it wasn't his appearance that made her gape. The fact that he knew her name did, along with the fact that he and the room he was in were the only things other than the moon that had not been too blurry to make out.

"Things are going to change…" she whispered.

"Yes, indeed they are, my dear. It is your destiny," he started to say again. But his voice trailed away halfway through, as she found herself moving away once again, this time at a speed even greater than before. Before she even realized it, she had passed the corridor, travelled through the hall, and was out under the red moon again, although even that had begun to change. It was glowing its unusual colour one moment, then the next it had begun to change into a face. A face with silver blonde hair falling across it, grey eyes, and finely chiselled cheekbones. 

She blinked several times, and the face of the Malfoy boy swam in front of her eyes, no longer blurry.

~ 

Everything happened so quickly: no sooner had they gotten to the front doors had Madam Pomfrey, Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagll rushed out into the night air and taken control of the situation. The girl had woken up, looking confused once more, and Malfoy had told her something Harry hadn't quite managed to hear. In the blink of an eye, Dumbledore had organized everything, and they were now in the hospital wing, both of the patient's eyes wide open with unmistakable fear.

Pomfrey was in the middle of throwing things into a cauldron (with Snape hovering nearby, suggesting things), when Dumbledore sat himself down in a chair between the beds (he'd been observing things placidly from the shadows). He, Ron, and Hermione were sitting awkwardly on one of the other empty beds, not sure whether to leave, and Malfoy had situated himself not far away, pacing in a little space where he thought he wouldn't obstruct anything.

The wizened headmaster looked at the two, who were watching things with eyes as big as dinner plates. "Cassandra, Cary," he said slowly, "Let me be the first to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your arrival has been highly anticipated, and for quite some time now."

The two people in front of him were not the only ones whose jaws dropped.


	4. Revelations

**__**

Chapter 3 

Revelations

__

"Your arrival has been highly anticipated, and for quite some time now."

The words kept ringing in Cass's head, as if her brain simply refused to process what she'd heard. Surely _he _hadn't brought them here? He had been the one to all but tell her it was her destiny to come here… where ever 'here' was. She hadn't dreamed it, had she?

The old man, whom Cass had learned was Albus Dumbledore, (another fact her mind simply wouldn't absorb), was standing up. He hadn't explained himself, opting to remain mysterious after his jaw-dropping proclamation, but now he was speaking again. 

"Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger, Mister Potter and Mister Weasley," he said, getting their attention, "Would you be so kind as to accompany me down to the kitchens for a bite to eat? I am astonishingly hungry, and I daresay we've missed dinner." Eyebrows raised, this was obviously his way of asking for them to leave without being rude. Ron started to protest, but Hermione elbowed him and hissed something Cass couldn't hear in his ear. "We'll be back later, Mr. Weasley, after Madam Pomfrey has finished," he said to Ron, eyes twinkling. 

"Professor?" came Draco's voice from the shadows, where he had been watching.

"Yes Draco?" Dumbledore asked brightly.

"I'm not hungry. May I stay here?"

Dumbledore considered this for a moment. "No, Mister Malfoy, I believe it would be best if you came with us. Normally, I'd let you, but Madam Pomfrey needs to be alone to do the things she's going to. Even the other patients will be temporarily moved."

Ron gave a loud snort and Hermione elbowed him again.

Dumbledore picked up his cloak and said, "Now, if you four will follow me, I believe we can still make it for --" 

Whatever Dumbledore had wanted to say was cut off as the door to the Infirmary burst open. Standing in the doorway, was --

"Ginny!" Ron exclaimed, seeing his sister holding up a boy that was pale as death. 

~

Everyone reacted - Cass shot straight up in her hospital bed, momentarily forgot that her voice was gone and tried to yell, "Alex!" Cary's eyes became even wider, if that was possible, at the sight of his best friend; Hermione slipped off her chair, landing in a most unflattering position, and Madam Pomfrey nearly dropped the nasty looking vial of green liquid she was holding. 

Alex's head was bleeding heavily and she could see beneath the remains of his tattered shirt a violently purple bruise was blossoming over the right side of his abdomen. His right elbow was hanging at a sickening angle and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He looked like he had just been through Hell and come back, but he was walking, Cass reminded herself, and that was more than either she or Cary could say at the moment.

"Ah, Virginia. I wondered when you might be joining us," Dumbledore said mildly, not a whit surprised to be seeing the youngest Weasley.

"Miss Weasley, would you mind bringing him in here instead of just standing there?" Madam Pomfrey said, looking up from her cauldron and frowning.

"Yes, Virginia, why don't you bring Mister Browning in and set him down?" Dumbledore asked calmly, in a voice that you expected him to use when talking about the weather.

Cass didn't like the dangerous way Alex was leaning on the girl. She was only a few inches shorter than him, but was obviously struggling to hold him up. Cass wondered if he was even conscious - from the glazed look his eyes held, she didn't think he was.

"I'm fine Cass, don't worry so much," he mumbled, from where his head was resting on the girl's shoulder.

This time, the nurse _did _succeed in dropping the vial she was holding.

"You can talk?" Ron asked, flabbergasted.

"And why wouldn't I be able to?" he asked, still not lifting his head and sounding curious.

"Miss Weasley, would you _please _bring him in here _now_? I need to attend to his head!" Madam Pomfrey was looking very harassed at the moment.

"But I _can't! _I could barely get him here in the first place! It's all I can do to keep him standing!" she wailed.

In only a couple very long strides, Dumbledore crossed the room to Ginny and lifted the boy very gently from her, laying him on the bed to Cass's right, ignoring the curious stares Cass and Cary sent his way. _But he's so _old_…_

"Now, if you four would follow me, I am in particular want of one of the elves' exquisite chocolate éclairs. Yes, I know you don't agree with the use of house elves for labour purposes, Miss Granger, but you must admit they make a mean pastry. And perhaps, Virginia, you would like to join us?" It wasn't a question. Turning to face Ginny, eyebrows raised, he didn't seem to notice that she looked for all the world as if she were about to fall over herself. Weakly, she nodded.

"Excellent!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together and bouncing on the balls of his feet, looking for a fleeting moment like an excited four year old with a beard. "Poppy, I believe you have everything under control, and Severus will be here to assist you, if the need should arise, so we will leave this in your capable hands and return in, say, an hour?" He looked up at the nurse, who was busy running her wand - her _wand _Cass realized with a shock- over Alex's body.

"Actually, better make that two hours, Albus," she said distractedly, gazing into Alex's eyes steadily. "And if the door is still closed, come back later."

"Will do, Poppy," he said amicably, ushering them out the door. "Oh, and Poppy?" Dumbledore added, his head sticking through the Infirmary door. "You are to never, under any circumstances, remove that book from Mister Stratton's control, or to look at the contents."

~

Draco walked behind the rest of them, his usual arrogant swagger missing for the first time in his life. The Golden Trio (the name he mentally used for the three best friends) were walking ahead of him, heads bent together in conference, and in front of them, walked Dumbledore, supporting Ginny, who was threatening to fall over with exhaustion. Dumbledore led them down to the kitchen (which Draco knew the location of, even if he'd never been there), tickled the painted pear, and walked down the stairs, managing to not look at all awkward, even though he had to duck and was half-carrying Ginny, not unlike the way she had held the boy, only a short while ago. 

Merlin, there were the house-elves. Dozens of them, crowding around Dumbledore as if he were a god. Draco was strongly reminded of why he had never before set foot in the kitchens of Hogwarts before - he detested house-elves. Once more, his face regained his trademark sneer as he noticed the way they were swarming around Potter as well.

"Taking your friends where you can find them, Potty?" he drawled, gazing at the copper pots that hung from the large ceiling, looking exceedingly bored.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," Harry shot back, not missing a beat.

Dumbledore was laying Ginny out on a soft, plush bed he had procured from thin air, and Draco was reminded suddenly of the way he had conjured several hundred purple sleeping bags during third year, when Sirius Black had broken into the Gryffindor dormitory. He remembered how disappointed he had been that the escapee hadn't managed to kill Weasley before he had woken up and smiled at the memory.

"Blinky, could you please get us some food? We missed dinner," Dumbledore said, addressing a tall elf near him, who instantly vanished to carry out the task.

"Gentlemen, and lady, I have a lot of explaining to do," he said heavily, sitting down and looking extremely weary all of a sudden. "First of all, you should all eat, and then get as much sleep as you possibly can, before we go back, for all of us will be returning, and we will not have a chance to rest for several hours, at the very least.

"The three people you saw today are very important to all we know and take for granted. More will be revealed in time, but for now I am just going to tell you that you will do everything you can to make these three people feel welcome, and at home, or you will deal with me. They have gone through enough, and will go through more yet undoubtedly, so if you do something to make them feel unwelcome, I will see to your expulsion personally. This is your warning. They are not from here, or now, which will be explained later, but just know this: everything you think of as your own hinges on these three people--"

"They're from the future?" Hermione asked, eyes bulging. "How is that possible? Everyone with half of a brain knows it is far too dangerous to travel back in time more than a few weeks, months at the most --"

"Miss Granger, calm yourself. These are not ordinary circumstances we are dealing with, first of all. I cannot go into detail here, you will get a more satisfying explanation later, but I will tell you this: these people are from a far different time than ours, a future so bleak they came back to learn to rectify it." He looked at all of them, an immeasurable wisdom in his eyes.

"_How _do you know all this?" demanded Draco. 

Dumbledore blinked benignly at him. "You would not believe me if I told you," he said simply, an undercurrent of amusement running through his voice. 

"Try me," Draco growled.

"Professor Trelawney made a prophesy last summer. One that was completely accurate, and that will be more important than any before it. Satisfied?" He was looking at Draco through his half-moon spectacles with bemusement. 

"You're right, I don't believe you."

Dumbledore ignored him. "Now, I will not tell you any more right now, partly because Miss Weasley has fallen asleep and needs to hear it as much as any of you. Yes, like it or not, Ronald, your sister will be thrown into this struggle as ruthlessly as any of you. Now, who wants a butterscotch-toffee éclair? I have them special made for myself, but I am most willing to share." He smiled suddenly, picking up a pastry from the tray floating next to him.

"But - Professor --" Ron tried, protesting.

"I am sorry you are going to see your sister suffer so much in the coming days Mister Weasley. I know how desperately you try to protect her from any type of pain or discomfort, especially since what happened in her first year, but you cannot stop this. There _is _no stopping this. Don't fight the current, flow with it. You will be much happier if you do." He looked solemnly at Ron, who still looked as if he wanted to argue, but didn't. There was something grim and foreboding about the wizened headmaster's words.

~

Draco looked around in disgust. How could they sleep here? Among _servants_? There was Potter, in the corner, curled up on another of Dumbledore's beds, and Granger was near the far wall, her bushy head under a fluffy pillow. Weasley wasn't far from her, snoring softly. Dumbledore wasn't asleep, instead he was having a conversation with the tall elf he'd addressed earlier, the name of which he couldn't remember (nor did he care). He wasn't as disgusted with Ginny, since she really hadn't had a choice in the matter, but the others… He cringed.

"Mister Malfoy, it really would be in your best interest to take a nap," Dumbledore said, suddenly standing at his elbow.

Draco looked scandalized. "I beg to differ," he scoffed.

"As you wish, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head tiredly. "Would you care for a game of chess, then?"

Draco looked up at him, shocked. Chess? He marvelled at the headmaster's ability to always say what he least expected. "I suppose," he said slowly.

Dumbledore waved his hand, and instantly a chess table appeared, plush purple chairs on either side. It was a hideous shade of fuchsia, but Draco sat down anyway.

"So, how are dealings with your father going, Draco?" Dumbledore asked curiously, as he moved out a white pawn. That was a brave question.

"Not very well," Draco replied truthfully, countering Dumbledore's opening move.

"Oh? How so?" He seemed genuinely curious, and Draco wanted to tell him the truth, but he knew what could happen to him if he was completely honest.

"Headmaster, may I speak to you frankly? Without the fear that you will use what I tell you? I could get into serious trouble if what I said got back to… certain people." 

The headmaster looked at him searchingly. Finally, he said, "Yes, I believe I could manage that." He took out a long wand and murmured, "_Occultus_." Immediately, a silvery bubble enveloped them, making Draco's jaw drop. 

"A complicated concealing charm," he said, by way of an explanation. "It allows us to talk freely, and no one outside the bubble is able to see, hear or detect us. Not very well known, it was created by the wizard Plato, so when he wanted to concentrate, no one could interrupt him. Fortunately, so much of his writing has been lost, it's known to about three people on the earth total: myself, the Dalai Lama, and the Muggle Prime Minister, whom I am very good friends with, and cannot use it anyway. It works well, no?"

"Was that intended to be a history lesson? Because if so, I really think you could do Binns' job better than Binns."

"Ah, once more I am treated to a taste of the famous Malfoy tongue." Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling. "Now, how are things with your father?"

Draco immediately sobered. He liked the Headmaster, as much as he didn't want to, but his father never had. He wondered how much he could tell the old man, the only confidante he seemingly had. "My father is becoming more and more…erratic, behaviour wise. He is, of course, the Dark Lord's right hand man, though you didn't hear that from me," Draco began, somewhat reluctantly. "He is also starting to be less than sure about me. Since the end of last year, when Potter's godfather vanished in the veil and the battle in the Department of Mysteries happened, I've been less than sure about my future among the Death Eaters. My father, of course, told me everything that had happened in minute detail, even what had been going on behind the lines of the Death Eaters' side, telling me to remember everything, as I would someday be in his place. Right hand to the Dark Lord. And it scared me. I admit, I do love picking on Potter and his flunkies, and Longbottom and Finnegan, and all the rest of those pathetic Gryffindors, but I don't think I could handle that.

"So my father has become suspicious of me, he isn't as sure about my loyalty, but I'm still his son, and he knows that. He knows that however rebellious I get, I will still remain loyal to the Malfoy chain. Or he thinks he knows, more to the point. Myself, I'm not so sure."

"And your brief fling with Ms. Weasley last year?"

"He thought it funny. It's his opinion that I only did it to get him angry, so he didn't. In all actuality, I did, too, though it wasn't just about him when it came down to it."

"Ah," was all Dumbledore said. 

"At any rate, he's been writing me letters all this year. At first, they were normal. They were of the usual sort - boring and tedious, filled with instructions and lectures and the like. But around the end of September, they began to get… stranger, instead of the usual, cool manner his letters used to have. He would start raving about the oddest subjects: the Northern Lights, global warming, Sherlock Holmes, the Beatles, the Cold War, Monty Python, the list never ends. Sometimes they were written this way, other times they were normal. It's almost like he's on some sort of Muggle drug…cocaine, or something. And it's starting to worry me. Not because I'm afraid for Father, but because of what it might mean. What they might be planning. Nothing like this was ever mentioned in my fathers' stories, nothing even remotely similar." He looked up from his hands, which he had been studying intensely during his speech.

"Well, Mister Malfoy, it seems you have just proven my instincts about you to be correct this entire time. I could have expelled you years ago, but I did not because my gut told me you were not like you father, not completely rotten. It seems my intuition was right once again. You are not an innocent person, but you are certainly not an evil one, either. I'm glad this prophesy included you after all. I was starting to wonder."

Draco gaped at Dumbledore. "That's all you have to say? You're not going to go off and send Snape to go find out why Voldemort is using narcotics? You're not going to tell me I'm a liar, or that you don't believe that I would admit I was afraid? You're just going to say, "I'm glad I decided to believe in you, why don't we go eat a lemon drop?'"

"And what, precisely, do you want me to say? I'm sure that felt good to get off your chest, but what could I do? I told you I wouldn't exploit what you told me, I agreed not to. That's a binding magical contract, that is. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to. It's ancient magic."

Draco seemed to realize he was staring and blinked repeatedly. "Well, alright then. Check." He moved his knight.

"Ah, very good move. By the way, would you like a lemon drop? They really are quite delightful for Muggle candy."

Draco threw up his hands in exasperation. There he went again, saying the last thing in the world he expected. "Sure, what the hell. I've been completely baffled by this conversation anyway, might as well get something out of it." He took a yellow candy from the tin Dumbledore held out to him.

~

"I can talk again!" Cass exclaimed, running her hands over her throat in amazement. "Why did I lose my voice in the first place?" she asked the nurse, who was putting something back on a shelf. 

"Your questions will be answered when the Headmaster returns. Until then, brace yourself. The potion I'm about to give you for your legs and back is not pleasant." She turned back to her, a grim expression on her face.

"_Potion_?" Cass squeaked.

"What else would I use? I know you're not a Muggle, my wand told me so, but you are the strangest child I have ever seen. Don't they use potions where you come from?" Madam Pomfrey asked curiously. 

Cass just stared. "I - we - _impossible _--" 

"Shhh," she murmured, laying a gentle hand on her arm. "It's okay, it's actually better that I don't know." She moved away, toward the bubbling cauldron where the dark man with a hooked nose was stirring it.

"Can you tell me one thing at least?" 

The nurse turned back to her, considering. "I imagine that would depend on what you want to know."

"Who were the people that brought us in?"

"You mean the students? Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy. I can tell you right now, I have never seen Mister Potter and Mister Malfoy together that long without throwing a punch at each other, not to mention Mister Weasley." She shook her head in amazement.

"What about the girl? The one that came in carrying Alex?" 

"Oh, Virginia Weasley. Yes, that was little Ginny. Amazing how she's grown up. It seems just yesterday she was being carried in here by Mister Potter, after the Chamber of Secrets incident…" 

Madam Pomfrey kept talking, but Cass didn't hear it anymore. _Ginny Weasley. _

She had to be dreaming. She just _had_ to be.

~

"Harry, what do you suppose this is about? I mean, three people show up out of the middle of no where, and suddenly we're told, Malfoy included I might add, that they're from the future. We don't even know their names!" Ron hissed in his ear as they walked back to the hospital wing, Dumbledore leading the way once more.

"Why do you assume I know what the hell is going on? I'm as lost as you are, mate. I don't understand it a whit, or why that bugger Malfoy is involved. Most likely, he'll go and report everything back to his Daddy as soon as possible."

"Would you two shut up already?" Hermione hissed at the both of them. "Malfoy can hear every word you two are saying. Bloody hell, they can probably hear you in bleeding America for Circe's sake! Now shut your mouths!" The look she gave them both make shivers run down Harry's back. Ahead of them a ways, Draco turned around and raised his eyebrows at Hermione sardonically.

"Told you," she said in a superior tone. Ron muttered something back, but fortunately enough for him, she didn't hear it.

"Ron, can you tell me what the bloody hell Dumbledore keeps going on about? He explained something to me earlier, but all I caught was something about time."

"Ginny, watch your mouth."

Ginny rolled her eyes and turned to Harry and Hermione. "Any clue at all?"

Harry shook his head and Hermione shrugged. "What happened before? When you came into the infirmary with that boy?" the latter asked. 

"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm a bit confused about it myself."

"Just tell us what you know then," Hermione suggested.

"Well, I suppose… Okay, so I was standing in front of one of the bookstores, waiting for Courtney," she began, naming her best friend, Courtney Wirth, who was a Ravenclaw. "She was late, as usual, so I sat down against a tree at the corner - you know, the old oak - deciding to give her a few more minutes before going to find Rachel or someone else. Courtney isn't the most dependable person, even if she is my best friend. So, I waited, and all of a sudden, a voice came from behind me, up in the tree. It was a boy's voice, asking me to please help him down. 

"You can imagine how weird that kind of situation would be. There was a boy, a little older than me, stuck up in a tree I had been leaning against, and yet, I hadn't heard him climb up at all. So, I just supposed he'd just been up there the entire time. He wasn't wearing school robes, but not everyone does on Hogsmeade trips. And he was our age, so I guessed that he was a student, just one I hadn't met before. A Hufflepuff probably, they seem to remain the background more often than not --"

"Get to the point, Gin," Ron complained.

"Do you want to hear this or not?" she snapped at her older brother. "So I asked him how he had managed to get up there in the first place, because he was really high, and he just sighed and said he'd rather not go into the details. So, I laughed, and started climbing the tree after him. Before I could get to him though, the branch he was perched on snapped and he came crashing down, taking me with him. The wind was knocked out of me, and by the time I caught me breath, he was sitting beside me, holding his side. 

"He apologized repeatedly, then blacked out. He had broken a few ribs, and hit his head too, and broke his arm, I think. He was really looking bad. So I woke him up, and brought him here, supporting him the entire way, because he was off bad enough without having to walk by himself."

"Well, that was odd," remarked Ron. 

"Did you find anything out from him?" Hermione asked her, ignoring Ron.

"Yes, actually. We talked the entire way back to the castle. His name is Alex Browning and he's just turned sixteen. He claimed to be originally from Dover, but his accent seemed a bit off to me. He said his best friends were named Cass and Cary, Stratford, or something sounding like that, but I've never heard of them before…"

"Cass?" Harry asked sharply.

"That's what he said," Ginny replied.

"That's what the girl's name was, remember?" he said, turning to Ron.

"So does that mean the other boy, the one we found, he's this Cary fellow?"

"Must be…" Harry murmured, thinking with lightning speed thoughts.

"GINNY!" 

Harry, Hermione, and Ron all cringed simultaneously. There was Ginny's best friend herself, pelting down the stairs behind them, attempting to catch up. Ginny, who was used to Courtney's shouting, just turned around and stood still.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Courtney demanded, once she had caught up to them, punching Ginny lightly on the arm.

"You weren't there, and something came up --"

"Hello, Miss Wirth. How are you doing this evening?" Dumbledore was suddenly standing at Ginny's elbow, looking at Courtney with amusement.

Courtney smiled at him brightly. "Just fine Professor. How're you doing?"

"Oh, I'm doing just fine. I read your essay about the theoretical origins of human magic for your Ancient Runes class. Absolutely brilliant. Are you positive you want to pursue Quidditch as a profession?" It was a well known fact that Courtney was a brilliant student when she applied herself. In fact, she was the Hermione Granger of Ginny's year in terms of intellect, but she had none of Hermione's drive. She only got average grades most of the time, because she was far from concerned about them. At exam time, she didn't study a single moment before the week of tests. And she was _never _on time. As a matter of fact, the only class she never slept through was Potions, because she actually _liked _it (and it showed too, since she was the only student outside of Slytherin House who Snape ever awarded points to, something Hermione found extremely irritating). Hermione had attempted to get her to apply herself to her studies during Courtney's third year, but had become frustrated with the hopeless task soon after and had given up. All Courtney wanted to do was play Quidditch for England - she was a brilliant Chaser. But Dumbledore adored her anyway (it was an informal tradition for him to give her a lemon drop every time he spoke with her).

She smiled sweetly at the headmaster. "Thanks Professor. I've found lately that actually _doing _the essays assigned to me is a lot easier than talking my way out of detention for not getting them done. Go figure, huh? But please, I've still got more than two years here. I haven't any more idea of what I'm going to do for the rest of my life than when I'm going to get started on that assignment McGonagall gave us today. May I have a lemon drop please?" 

Dumbledore chuckled and dug into his pockets for the famous tin. "Miss Wirth, I was wondering if you might do me a favour. There's a shop in Hogsmeade that sells specialty items. It's owned by an elderly witch named Madam Keipper, a dear friend of mine, and it's on Griffin Street, next to the Dragon's Wing Pub. It's not a shop you walk just walk into, however. You will need a note from me to purchase anything, which you will be doing." At this point, he drew Courtney aside as spoke for a few moments with her in a quiet tone no one was able to overhear. Presently, he waved his wand and a scrap of parchment appeared in Courtney's hand. He handed her a small bag of money next, and then she was gone, grinning at Ginny impishly as she ran out of the Great Hall.

"Now, if you four will follow me once again, I believe Madam Pomfrey will be done by now."

"What the _hell _was that about?" Ron asked, his face twisting in bewilderment.

"Damned if I know," Harry said, frowning. He was really starting to hate the confusion he'd had all day.

~

"Are you really Albus Dumbledore?"

"What happened?"

"_How _did it happen?"

"Who's with you? Surely it's not Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy? It can't be."

The party was attacked with questions as soon as they entered the white and antiseptic-smelling Hospital Wing.

"Please calm yourselves," Dumbledore said gently, holding up his hands. "I can only hear one person at a time."

Waving his wand, the space in front of the beds was instantly taken up by several large, overstuffed, purple chairs, not unlike the ones in the Gryffindor common room, discounting the colour. "Now. Sit down," he said, gesturing at the group vaguely.

"Mister Stratton, perhaps you should begin explaining some history. Start from the end of the Great War, but say nothing of what happens to the people in front of you." Dumbledore looked calmly at the tall, blonde boy that hadn't let anyone near his book. "And please, no one outside this room is to know what is said in here, understood?" He looked sternly at the teenagers assembled around him.

"Perhaps you might like to introduce everyone first, Professor?" Cary replied, just as calmly.

"Oh, yes! How could I have forgotten? Harry, Ron, Draco, Hermione, Ginny, this is Cassandra and Cary Stratton, and Alex Browning." he said, gesturing at the three in the beds. "And these, my friends, are Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Virginia Weasley. Yes, shocking, isn't it?" There was nothing joking about the way he responded to Cass's jaw dropping.

"W-what kind of joke is this?" she asked shrilly, struggling to find the words. She started to get out of her bed, looking both very angry and very bewildered. 

"My dear Cassandra, I can assure you this is no joke. Surely no amount of makeup and costumes could give this much likeness to the figures you've seen engraved and painted in so many scenes?" Dumbledore looked at her, and for a second she thought she saw great sorrow in their azure depths. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, so she couldn't be sure.

She walked toward the window, which was a considerable distance above the ground and stared unseeingly at the frozen forest and lake. "You have to be joking. This isn't possible. I'm dreaming, or Mother decided December was the new month to play April Fools' jokes in. You can't be real. You just _can't _be. Harry Potter died more than half a millennium ago. Draco Malfoy betrayed --"

"Miss Stratton!" Dumbledore said sharply, cutting her off. "Please, I remind you once again not to reveal more than you have to --"

"Half a millennium?" Ron asked shrilly.

"What's this about me _dying_?"

"I betrayed someone?"

"Please!" Dumbledore spoke sharply, once more. "Ms. Stratton, I am sorry this had to happen, but it did. You really are standing in the infirmary of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, all of us are really carrying actual magical wands, and this is really Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger, two of the most famous witches to grace history's pages. Now, please sit down --"

"_What_?" Hermione and Ginny gasped at the same time.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Quiet!" he snapped, making everyone in the room jump. "Miss Stratton, I am aware this must be an awful lot to swallow all at once, but you need to sit down so all may be explained. We don't have a lot of time."

Silently, Cass went and sat next to Cary on his bed, the only sign of her agitation the tight grip she held on his pant leg. 

"Now, Master Cary, I give you the floor." Dumbledore sunk down into a plush violet chair.

Cary glanced warily in the headmaster's direction and cleared his throat. "All right, I suppose I'll start from the beginning…"

~

"After the Great War, the was a period of great rest. The entire world went into a kind of waking sleep, as if exhausted from a life-long struggle. It was a very happy time, indeed, in which all peoples got along with each other, there wasn't a constant threat on the entire Wizarding world, the Ministry of Magic was a functioning institution, for the first time in about fifty years, and even the Muggles could sense it. There wasn't a Death Eater to be seen for years.

"But there was a technology backlash not soon after, and the entire world, not just the Muggle of Wizarding ones separately, entered a dark age, not dissimilar to that of Europe from around 1000 to 1400 AD. There was an outbreak of Veela Pox, an illness that had not been seen for many hundreds of years, and the earth was plunged into an impenetrable darkness. Even the most remote parts of human civilization, again, Muggle and Wizarding both, were affected. Nearly a third of the population died, or was horribly mutated in some way. Because that's what Veela Pox does: it destroys you from the inside, warping and twisting your insides until they no longer function properly. The hospitals were overrun, as were the insane asylums, since the pain of such a disease is maddening - even if you survived it, you were driven mad by the agony. The newly found technological breakthroughs in everything, including medicine, computers, and much much more, not more than a century old, were all rendered irretrievable when some long lost followers of the Lord Voldemort plundered the research facilities, hospitals, and factories, among everything else, which they did with particular relish. Nothing was left undisturbed, and civilization was driven back in progress to about the turn of the nineteenth century. The economy nose-dived, creating a Depression worse than that of even the early 1900's. The American government was overthrown in the second Revolution, and nuclear war broke out many times. In fact, where I come from, there is a large chunk missing from Cape Horn where North Korea wrought havoc. And people despaired of any hope, which was by far the worst blow to mankind. The word 'anguish' was completely redefined.

"But about four hundred years from now, there was a man, a descendant of the French philosopher he shared a last name with, named Claude Voltaire managed to rebuild a strong central government for the country of France, and soon after, the United States followed, and Great Britain, and indeed a great part of the world. Law and justice were reinstated and the various renegades that had been plundering what little was left were rounded up. A fragile attempt at civilization was spun, as delicate as a spider web. But Voltaire had done his work properly: it was a solid, if slow-moving start. The economy was righted, and indeed, it was like the sun had come up after a very, very long and dangerous night. While things were not, nor would ever be as they were, they much better, and they were improving with every moment. Books were being written again, to try and compensate for the knowledge that had been lost, breakthroughs were rediscovered, and in general, humanity was being rebuilt. The year we came from, 2584, is, technologically speaking, around the same era as you. It took a while, but we managed it. This is why your age seems not so very different from ours, except in terms of magic. People where we come from can't perform magic the way you can." Cary sat down, oblivious to the stares he was receiving.

"Au contraire, Mister Stratton. People from your era are indeed biologically different from us, simply for the reason of evolution if nothing else. Humanity felt a major blow, but humans still continued to evolve slowly over time. I believe if you'll compare wrist bones with Mister Potter, you'll find that yours is far more prominent, and that your bone structure as a whole is lighter and has less mass, and your brains are also slightly bigger." Hermione looked slightly indignant. "But not being able to perform and not _knowing how _are two entirely separate things." He looked straight at Cary, whom had been attempting to pry his sister's fingers off his legging for the last few moments.

"Wait a second. What the bloody hell do you mean you can't do magic?" Ron interrupted rudely. 

"Ronald, I would appreciate it if you would hold off on the strong language," Dumbledore chided gently.

"Sorry, Professor," he mumbled.

Cary looked directly at Ron for the first time. "A standard wand hasn't been made for nearly three centuries, or at least three centuries from our time, is the moment when the last Ollivander descendent performed the meticulous task. In the six hundred years that have passed since this day in age, the number of true wizards has dwindled. The breeding between Muggles and Wizards increased so much that the magical blood has been diluted with non-magical blood. Begging your pardon, Miss Granger," he said blushing slightly, looking at Hermione shyly, who looked vaguely astonished that he would apologize. "That," he said, continuing, "Combined with the Veela Pox Outbreak of 2164, severely decreased the amount of magical people in the world. In fact, Alex here is the first person to have the magical ability to actually use a wand, had we been able to engineer one for him, in a very long amount of time. Show them, Alex."

Alex looked confused, but soon realized what Cary meant. Bringing one hand in front of the other, he muttered something under his breath and slowly brought away the hand that had been hiding what he had been doing. There, in the palm of his hand, was a small white rosebud. To their astonishment, the white flower began to grow in his hand, blooming spectacularly and becoming the most perfect and beautiful rose that had ever been seen, before, just as smoothly, it shrivelled up and turned black, the fragrant petals dropping to the floor. Slowly, the dead stem grew another white bud where the previous one had been and blossomed once again.

Mock-bowing, he presented the bloom to Ginny who blushed to the roots of her hair. "For helping me down from the tree," he said, smiling at her. "It will keep re-blooming as long as you will it to." 

"An _iuvenesco iuvenescere iuvenui _charm. Exceedingly impressive, Alexander. Especially considering the amount of training you've had in the subject." Dumbledore nodded at him, a satisfied expression on his face.

"Sir, what did you mean about not knowing how?" Alex asked Dumbledore, straightening up.

"I meant exactly what I said. Cary and Cassandra _can _perform magic. It's just a matter of understanding how it is done." Dumbledore replied, not looking as if he were joking at all.

"But that's impossible."

"As I said before, Miss Stratton, on the contrary." Dumbledore was obviously enjoying not explaining himself.

"Professor…"

"Mister Stratton, there are two classifications of magic: internal and external. Everyone in this room except for you two can perform internal magic. For most of history, all but a very few have been internal wizards. What this means is that when Miss Granger, for instance, performs a spell, she draws on the magic running through her body. You, on the other hand, as with your sister, are an external wizard. With a wand, of course, you would draw on the magic surrounding you. There is magic in everything, you see, even in the Muggle world. It is in the grass, the sky, in the very walls that surround you. All that is matter is infested with magic. It is also a fact that external wizards, or witches, are far more powerful than their internal counterpart, because it takes not nearly the mental strain to perform complex spells. The Patronus Spell, for instance, takes a great physical toll on the average person. You, however, could say the words and feel nothing more than a slight contraction in your chest, only from the effort of borrowing the magical energy around you." Dumbledore raised a grizzled eyebrow. "Am I making sense?"

Everyone stared at him. Finally, Hermione spoke up. "Why haven't I heard about all of this before? And if what you're saying is true, does it mean an ordinary Muggle would be able to perform external magic as well?"

"The idea I am explaining to you is generally referred to as the Nabokov Theory, after Fyodor Nabokov, who was the first person to explain it that way. It's not a very well known theory, considering Nabokov died shortly after his essay on it was written, about four hundred years ago. It wasn't widely published, and all copies of it passed out of knowledge until about fifty years ago. Those who do know about it tend to disregard it as the mad ravings of an abusive alcoholic. As for your other question, no, ordinary Muggles would not be able to perform magic, even of the external sort, because to do so requires enough magic in the blood to draw on the magic outside the body. Muggles do have magic in their genes, otherwise we wouldn't get Muggle-borns such as yourself, but not enough. Cassandra and Cary do have enough in them, however. I am correct to believe you two can perform mild telepathy?" he asked the two siblings.

"Yeah, and we can hold things with our minds occasionally, too." Cass concentrated on Dumbledore's hat, and after a while it began it hover slightly above his head.

"I rest my case," Dumbledore said politely, to which Hermione looked slightly more satisfied. Alex, however, did not.

"Then why am I not one of those? Why am I more similar to you and all of them?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

Dumbledore looked calmly at Alex, his blue eyes twinkling seriously. "Because," he said slowly, "Your father was a pureblood wizard. In fact, he's here at this very moment." 


	5. Fathers and Wanderers

**__**

Chapter 4

Fathers and Wanderers

The room instantly hushed. Dimly, Harry marvelled at the transition that had occurred from urgent whispering and the creaking of chairs to almost deathly stillness. It was a penetrating stillness, one that seemed to press against the very walls. It was so thick one could have cut through it with a knife, and it seemed to last forever, though he knew it couldn't have been more than a few moments. Finally, voice shaking, Alex spoke.

"What?" he asked simply.

The headmaster looked back at him unblinkingly. "You're father is here, at this very moment. It may seen impossible, but it is the truth. He's teaching, here, at the school. He is one of the best men I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and I am truly sorry you haven't had the opportunity to meet him at all. He would have been a wonderful father to you had he had the chance." 

Alex just gaped.

Harry was repulsed for the second at the thought of Snape being the boy's father, which was the first thing he thought of. Then something twigged. The boy's hair, and his eyes, even the way he was sitting - they were much younger versions of --

"His name is Remus Lupin, and I have never had a finer Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Even having known you for a short time I can tell you have much of him in you. His wisdom, and loyalty and kindness all reflect themselves in your eyes." Dumbledore suddenly leaned forward, closer to the boy that sat in front of him, who was gripping the seat so hard his knuckles were white. Dumbledore searched his face, and that of Cass's, who had come up behind him and was gripping his should reassuringly with one hand. Harry was oddly touched at the bond that seemed to exist between the two friends, so strong you could almost sense it in the air like static electricity. 

"You're not lying?" Alex asked dazedly, hope and disbelief battling for control over his face.

"I am not."

"Where is he then? Why isn't he here? Doesn't he know?" Harry watched as the now desperate-seeming boy craned his neck and looked around behind everything he could look behind from his position. The way he looked then, it was almost as if Harry could see past the now almost-grownup face and see the child he must have been. Harry felt a wave of sympathy wash over him as he watched - he knew what it was like to grow up without a father. 

"He is not here, Alexander. He does not know you have come. In truth, he did not ever expect to meet you, though I do for a fact know that the greatest desire of his heart has always been to be able to be a real father to you."

"Professor," Hermione said tentatively, "How can Professor Lupin be his father? And isn't it unsafe for…people of his kind to procreate?"

"An excellent question, my dear girl. I do not know the details of the thing, but I do know this: when Professor Lupin was a little older than yourselves, he fell in love with a girl. I believe her name was Sara Browning." Alex started, and Cass gripped his shoulder even tighter. "She loved him back, and she stayed by his side as long as she could, but she was never part of this world, and never would be, and they both knew it. It is a proven fact that one cannot live in a different time period forever. You get physically ill. 

"They never married, because Remus didn't want her to be persecuted for marrying him, considering what he was. I think she would have in a heartbeat, if given the chance, however. They lived together after Remus graduated from Hogwarts, and I don't think I have ever seen two people more in love, except for maybe your parents, Harry." At this, Harry smiled softly. "But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. He woke up one morning, precisely four years after she had come, and she was gone. She was three months pregnant with you at the time."

"What happened to her?" Alex half-whispered.

"Seven months passed, with Remus becoming more and more heartsick with every passing day. Then one day, she turned up again, on his doorstep. She lasted just long enough to tell him she loved him, and then she coughed and died, right there in his arms. I don't think he has ever quite gotten over that loss."

A loud sob erupted from Hermione behind the headmaster, breaking the reverent atmosphere. "It's so sad!" she wailed, burying her face in the handkerchief Malfoy handed her while rolling his eyes. 

"Do you know why she died?" 

"She caught pneumonia trying to make her way back to your father, and she had only had you a few weeks earlier."

Hermione sobbed even harder into the borrowed handkerchief. 

Alex walked over to the window wordlessly and took up Cass's earlier position. 

"What is he?" he asked, still looking out on the snow covered grounds.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"You said something about them not getting married because of what he was. What is he?" he answered impatiently.

The headmaster resumed an air of gravity immediately, and Harry could tell he was trying to find the best way to explain.

"Just tell him," he said quietly.

Dumbledore sighed. "He's a werewolf," he said simply.

Alex blanched. "A…a…"

"He's a good man," Harry said suddenly. "He was one of my dad's best friends until he died, and the only one left I would ever consider trusting. When I had problems, he tried to help even if he couldn't really do anything."

"Mister Potter speaks the truth. He is the one of the finest professors I have ever had the privilege to employ, and he had never broken my confidence. People reject him because he's a lycanthrope, but he's a better person than most who scorn him. His compassion and sense of honour shows through everything he does, and he's never dishonest or rash. Really, if all men were like Remus Lupin, we would live in a far better world."

Alex almost smiled at this. Then something seemed to register. "If he's a werewolf, doesn't that mean I am one as well?"

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but Professor Snape, our Potions Master, always had a soft spot for Sara. When she became pregnant, he locked himself in his laboratory for nearly two months, perfecting a variation of the Wolfsbane Potion that is meant to be consumed by the mother. The concoction removes the mutant werewolf genes from the fetus's DNA and voila, you have a normal child."

To this, Hermione looked satisfied again, and Alex looked relieved. "Will I get to see him?" he queried.

"I have him scheduled for a meeting in my office at two o'clock this afternoon for that very purpose."

Harry watched the look of bewildered happiness blossom over his face with mild envy. _To be able to meet his father_…

Suddenly, the door opened and in bounced Courtney, carrying a large parcel. "Professor, I have your thingys--" she started to say, but was cut off as she tripped on the blanket that had fallen to the floor from Cass's bed, sending the package flying from her grasp. Lithely, the headmaster sprung forward and caught the box deftly in his hands, making the patients blink with amazement.

Courtney slowly got up, an apologetic look plastered on her reddening face. 

Malfoy shook his head sadly. "And you're so graceful on the Quidditch field…" he moaned.

She turned sharply toward him. "If I wanted to hear the squealing of pigs, Malfoy," she said, saying his name like an insulting swearword, "I would walk down to one of the farms surrounding Hogsmeade." She shot him a disgusted look.

Ron started to guffaw, but quit hastily at the glare Hermione sent him. "I knew I liked that girl," Ron muttered to Harry, who immediately started to cough far too loudly.

"Thank you, Miss Wirth, that will be all," he said, dismissing her. "You have undoubtedly missed curfew, so here's a note in case anyone should stop you." He handed her a slip of parchment.

"I don't even get to see what it is I went all the way to Hogsmeade for?" she asked, looking thoroughly disappointed.

"No, I'm afraid not, but maybe Miss Weasley will tell you tomorrow." He chuckled, and behind him, Ginny flushed.

"Oh, come _on, _Professor! Please?"

"No, I'm sorry, but I can't allow that. However, if you would, I would appreciate it greatly if you would run and fetch Madam Trelawney for me," he said, ushering he out of the door.

"What do you want that old bat for?" she asked incredulously, as if she could hardly comprehend the fact that the batty retired Divination teacher would get to sit in on whatever this was, but she was being kicked out.

"Courtney," he chided gently. "Just go and fetch her for me, please?" 

"Oh, alright," she mumbled, as he closed the door.

Dumbledore turned back to the young people in the room, who were all staring at him expectantly.

"Well then," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Mister Browning, if you'll open that parcel, I believe there are a few items for your friends." 

Alex, who had been silent up until then, looked quizzically at him, but obeyed. Inside, there were numerous oddly-shaped packages. "Give one of the long thin packages to both Cassandra and Cary," Dumbledore instructed. 

Inside them were what Harry recognized as two identical looking wands, made of a very dark wood. Picking hers up curiously, Cass looked at the headmaster questioningly. "Are these wands?" she asked.

"Indeed they are," he answered. "They are meticulously crafted wands, specifically designed for external witches or wizards. They're made from a tree that only grows in the mountains of eastern Europe, and the wood is harvested when the trees are over a thousand years old, at the full moon. With these, you shall be able to cast most spells."

Cass looked excited. "Can I try?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, I don't see why not.. A simple lighting spellshould be fine. Concentrate your mind on the end of the wand and say '_lumos."_

Cass picked up the wand by the hilt and looked at it determinedly. A small wrinkle appeared between her eyebrows as she said the incantation. Instantly, the end began to glow. Cass was so astonished, she almost dropped it. "Wow!" she exclaimed, looking as if Christmas had come early. Dumbledore chuckled. "Cary, did you see that? I did magic!" she said, bouncing up and down in her seat as if she were ten years younger. Cary grinned and fingered his own wand.

"What else is in here?" Alex asked, digging through the contents. He brought out a circularly shaped flat object wrapped in brown paper.

"That goes to Cassandra."

Alex handed it to her, and curiously, she opened it. Inside was a very plain, green tinted mirror, rimmed in copper.

"What is it?" she asked, turning it over in hopes of finding some clue towards it's identity. All she found, however, was that she could now see through the green glass.

"When Professor Trelawney gets here, I will explain it." And he didn't say any more.

Hermione however, looked as if something were dawning on her. "Is that a Seering Glass?" she murmured.

Dumbledore just smiled at her mysteriously. "There is also a stand for it, I believe," he said. And indeed, the next item to be unwrapped was indeed a metal stand made from the same copper that rimmed the mirror. 

"Now, the three heavy squares are books, for all three of you. They are not regular books, however. These catalogue all the spells that appear in _The Standard Book of Spells_, volumes one through seven. They only have volume one in them right now, but as soon as you work your way through it, the second volume spells will magically replace the first." Hermione looked awestruck.

"And that, I believe is all. Alexander, you will get your wand tomorrow, because we will have to visit Ollivander's for it." At this, Alex looked very pleased. 

"Will my father be coming too?" he asked, almost shyly.

"If you want him too, I'm sure he would love to come," Dumbledore said. "Well, all we have to do now is wait for Professor Trelawney."

Ron rolled his eyes, and an audible moan was heard from Harry. Dumbledore chuckled.

"Excuse me - Professor - there's something else in here," Alex said, lifting a small squashy package out of the box. "_You left this at my house the other night, Love Alexandra,_" he read off a tag on the outside.

Dumbledore grabbed it out of Alex's hands immediately. "It's nothing. Pumpernickel bread," he said hastily, a deep blush rising on his cheeks.

Ron snickered.

~

Thirty minutes later, the retired Divination instructor still had not come. Dumbledore didn't look perturbed, but Draco was pacing again, and Ginny had fallen asleep in her chair. Hermione was doing homework, which wasn't surprising. Cary was exploring the cabinets and closets, and Cass was playing a game of chess with Ron, with Harry watching. Every once in a while, she would emit a gasp as one of the pieces was taken. "It's so brutal!" she had exclaimed earlier. "I wish we had chess like this back home!"

Alex still sat on the bed, contemplating how to approach the dark man stirring the cauldron, the one he had been told had virtually saved him from being a werewolf. _People would be even more afraid of me than they already are_, he mused as he pondered what being a lycanthrope would be like, and deciding he wouldn't like it.

Steeling his resolve, he stood up and made his way over to the bubbling potion being brewed. The man named Snape looked at him expressionlessly for a few moments before turning back to his concoction, which had just turned a bright, clear shade of blue.

"Uh…is it supposed to be that colour?" he asked nervously.

Snape looked up. "You have her face," he said ignoring his question. 

Alex was slightly taken aback. "Really?" he asked.

"Really. Your facial expressions are the same, especially when you smile. But you have Lupin's eyes," he said, not looking up, but instead at his potion, which he was adding something Alex did not want to know the identity of.

"Is this a good thing?"

"I'm the wrong person to ask that question of."

"Oh." Alex looked at his shoes, which were caked with mud. "Umm…thank you." He noticed that one of his shoelaces had been broken and retied. 

"You're welcome," he said briskly. "I would have done anything for Sara," he added, softer.

Alex looked up. "You loved her, didn't you?" 

"I suppose I did, but not in the way you're thinking of. She held nothing against me, ever. She wasn't as biased against me as her boyfriend or his friends were, and was kind to me from the start. She was the only person I've ever met who trusted me that readily, except Potter's mother. She simply did not understand why they hated me so much," he looked at Alex thoughtfully, a very strange expression on such a normally cold face.

"I think I understand.," Alex replied slowly.

"They were friends, you know," he said suddenly.

"Who were?"

"Your mother and Potter's. They were amazingly alike, but infinitely different. Your mum was more relaxed, I think, and Lily had a quicker temper. But they were both beautiful. I remember Black whinging one day to Lupin and Potter - Harry Potter's father, that is - about the fact that he was better looking than the both of them, and somehow, they had ended up with the better looking girlfriends. Black always was a complainer. She was a good person, you'd be lucky to get her half of the gene pool." And with that, he turned back to his cauldron, and didn't say anything else.

Alex went back to his seat feeling slightly dazed.

~

"That was just a tad out of character for Snape," Ron muttered to Harry as he sipped the pumpkin juice Dumbledore had procured.

"Maybe he's been sniffing cauldron fumes too much," Harry sniggered.

Ron snorted. "No, but seriously. Since when does he get all emotional like that?"

"Never that I've seen, that's for sure. It's odd to think this Alex bloke's mum was my mum's best friend," he added thoughtfully.

"I wonder why Lupin never mentioned he had a son?" 

"I dunno. Probably because he never figured we - or him - would ever get to meet him. He didn't see the point." Harry looked across the room. "Cass is pretty funny though. Kinda in a way reminds me of Ginny, in how she treats her brother."

"Poor Cary," Ron muttered.  
"Hey," Harry said, chuckling, "remember when Ginny dated Malfoy last fall? That was hilarious, in the common room when she told you to 'get your head out of your arse and realize that your opinion isn't the word of God and to 'grow up'. I never realized how sharp of a tongue she had before then." Harry threw back his head and laughed outright.

"Merlin, don't remind me. I never understood what she saw in him."

"An excellent person to lose her virginity to," Harry replied, deadpan. Ron choked on his juice.

"Don't do that!" he sputtered. "I'm going to have nightmares for a month now!" 

Harry laughed again heartily, a sound Ron hadn't heard come from s best friend for a long time and reluctantly, he smiled too.

"No, actually, I didn't like it when she went on that venture either. I was worried the entire time," Harry said, more seriously.

Ron grumbled something inaudible back. 

"Your sister," Harry said, shaking his head.

"What about her?" Ron asked defensively. 

"She's just…not a little girl anymore, is she? Ever since about last year, she's really come into her own. It's hard to believe she was ever the shy, love struck little girl I first met. Now she's bold, and does things deliberately because people tell her she shouldn't. Malfoy wouldn't have looked twice at her a few years ago, but since the middle of last year, I've seen him watching her." He looked at his best friend searchingly.

"Yeah, and their relationship now isn't any better," Ron muttered. 

"I agree, but at least we know she isn't shagging him any more," Harry pointed out. "And she isn't hanging out with him alone when she does. Dean's there most of the time." Dean Thomas had been assigned to help Malfoy create the decorations for the Yule Ball, and had become allies, in a manner of speaking. Harry suspected Dean was partly just unwilling to leave Ginny alone with him, but knew that wasn't all of it. Malfoy had discovered that not all Gryffindors were that horrible and, surprisingly enough, Seamus hadn't minded much the strange camaraderie that had sprung up between the three. "As long as I don't have to be around him, I'm fine with it," he had told Harry. 

Suddenly, Ron felt something sting at the back of his head. "What the hell was that for?" he swore, looking at his sister, who had apparently cuffed him.

"I have _never _shagged anyone, let alone Malfoy," she seethed, storming away.

Ron glared at Harry with intense anger. "I hate you," he muttered, rubbing his head.

~

"Headmaster, I am here," spoke the misty voice of Sybil Trelawney as she entered the infirmary. 

"Ah, there you are Sybil," Dumbledore said, getting up from the chair he had been sitting in.

"What is it you need, Headmaster? Did you See something?" Her big insect-like eyes looked at him from behind their oversized spectacles.

"Ah, no, I'm afraid I have not, but rest assured, you are still going to be happy with why I have called you down here."

"Well then, please explain yourself," she said.

"I want you to take a close look at that girl sitting in the corner." If she found his request odd, she didn't say anything.

"The one with the black hair?" she asked, pointing at Cass.

"Yes, her name is Cassandra Stratton."

Wordlessly, Madam Trelawney advanced, and Cass sent a pleading look at her brother, who shrugged. 

She didn't get very far however, when she cried out. "Albus! Her eyes!"

"What about my eyes?" Cass asked defensively.

"Exactly. I want you to explain to Miss Stratton exactly what she is," Dumbledore said calmly. 

Trelawney gulped and approached her nervously. "Miss Stratton?" 

"Yes?" Cass looked puzzled.

"I want you to look into my eyes and tell me what you see."

Cass quirked an eyebrow. "And what would that prove?"

"Cassandra, just do as she says," Dumbledore said from behind her.

Cass gave him a shrewd look, but did as she was asked. Looking into the older woman's eyes, she noticed that she had the same eyes, in a way. They were black, with streaks of grey-green running through them.

"They're like mine," she said slowly.

"Yes, they are. Do you know what that means?"

"You're my great-great-great-great grandmother?" Cass asked brightly.

"Albus, what is she talking about?" Trelawney turned toward the headmaster.

"Never mind, Sybil. Cassandra, Madam Trelawney is our retired Divination professor. She was fired last year, because we had a few, er, problems, but I invited her back to help the present Divination instructor when he needs it. Officially, she is retired, but nonetheless, she lives here."

"So?" Cass was obviously confused.

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Cassandra, you are a Seer. Your eyes prove that fact."

Cass stared at him. "You're joking, right?" She laughed suddenly. 

"No, Miss Stratton, I'm as serious as a case of Dragon Pox. And you are not an ordinary Seer, either. You are a Wanderer ."

"_What?!_"

"There are several classifications of Seers, however. There are Prophets, of which Madam Trelawney is classified--" Dumbledore started to say.

"You mean she's _not_ a fake?" Ron interjected incredulously.

Dumbledore chuckled. "No, Ronald, she isn't. There are also Observers, who watch future events through their dreams, Oracles, who perceive the truth about the future and the past through trances and who are also called Diviners, and Wanderers, who you are. Wanderers are able to wander through places and times far away in spirit form, and are by far the rarest. Do you remember talking to me before you got here?" Dumbledore looked at her piercingly.

"Yes… you told me things were going to change…" Cass said faintly, as if barely remembering. "But I thought it was only a dream. I moved so fast, and everything was blurry…"

"Ah, but a dream it wasn't. And that wasn't the first time it has ever happened, is it?"

Cass closed her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows. "No," she said after a while. "It has happened before, but I thought I was dreaming."

"That is to be expected. But you can change how you do this. Before, it happened when you were asleep, correct?" Dumbledore asked her.

"Yes," she replied slowly.

"That is what this is for," he replied, picking up the green-tinted glass that lay on the bed. "It helps you channel your power, but where or when you will go is a mystery." 

She stared at him for a while. Finally, she burst out, "Do you honestly expect me to believe all of this? I mean, I might, _might_ be able to accept the fact that we've all suddenly travelled back in time hundreds of years and are currently standing in a room in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where Alex's father, whom we've never met, is a teacher. I might even be able to accept the fact that Albus Dumbledore is standing in front of us, with Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley behind him, explaining that given the right training, we could learn to perform spells and charms. I might learn to accept those facts, however ludicrous it might sound to anyone else. But do you really, seriously, expect my to just believe that I have some weird super fortune telling powers that I've never ever _heard of before_? Just believe this, no questions asked. To say, 'Oh yeah, Professor Dumbledore. I believe you when you say I can read crystal balls and tarot cards, even though I've never seen either one, or anyone with the so called powers you say I have'? You haven't given me _any_ proof. None. Just some people who could very well be in elaborate costumes. In fact, I bet this entire thing is some complicated prank--"

Cary leapt forward and clapped a hand over her mouth. "You are getting just a tad loud, Cass." Lowering his hand, he added, "Has Mum ever gone to this extent to get a laugh? She's slightly evil occasionally, but she isn't malevolent." He looked at her solemnly. "And I believe him besides."

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," he replied firmly.

"Well then," she said quietly, looking down at the light blue dressing gown she was wearing. "Will you please tell me something at least? At least if you know the answer?" She looked at Dumbledore almost shyly.

"If I know the answer, I will answer you best as I can." 

"How did we get here?"

Dumbledore looked at her for a long time. "It is my understanding," he began, "that you are here because of the intervention of Time and Fate. You see, Time and Fate are entire entities. They are conscious beings, though they hardly have a body or a voice. They brought you here, not anyone else."

"Then what was that golden stuff?"

"I believe that particular aspect of Time doesn't have a name. It's a part no human being is supposed to understand but, if it was to be named, I suppose what you saw was the very fabric of Time unravelling where you were in time and in the universe. It was weakening the barriers so that you could travel back. That, I believe is what you're asking."

"But Professor, why did we lose the ability to walk? And why were our clothes ruined? Those were my most comfortable pair of pants." Cass gave him a shrewd look, and missed the exasperated one Alex gave her.

"Think of it this way: You travelled back more than six centuries. That's a very long journey. It's basically the equivalent of walking the circumference of the earth several hundred times. If you did that, your legs and back would both suffer. As for your voice, that is simply a side effect of travelling back more than a year. It's Fate's way of preventing you from speaking of what you see. Serious trouble could ensue if you spoke of what you saw to the wrong person if you were not meant to go back. And your clothes were ruined because of the intensity of time travel. It's very strenuous on everything that goes through it. It's almost like going through a food processor. Everything but yourself is harmed."

"But the book," Draco suddenly said, speaking for the first time in several hours. "The book Cary's holding. It's not harmed."

"That, Mister Malfoy, is an entirely different matter," Dumbledore said.

"And why would that be?" Draco asked sardonically.

"Because Fate obviously didn't want it to be harmed. That is the only reason it could ever have escaped the damaging effects of it."

Draco blinked. "Right," he replied sarcastically. "The damaging effects of it."

Alex stepped forward. "Headmaster, are we done here yet? I'm really tired, and Cass won't quit yawning." Cass shot him a glare.

"Yes, I believe that will be all for tonight," Dumbledore said, sighing. "You will be staying in a guest wing, since you're not technically sorted into any of the four houses. I'll show you the way, follow me." He picked up his hat and the squashy package from his chair.

"Where's this so called guest wing?"

"Well, I suppose it's not so much a guest wing as a guest tower. It's one of the unused towers in the west wing." Dumbledore ushered them towards the door. "Mister Malfoy, I think it's time you are heading back to the Slytherin dormitories, and you four, I think had better be going to bed as well. The entrance to the tower is behind the statue of Irma the Insipid on the sixth floor, if you decide to drop in on them. The password is 'specula'. Now--" He opened the door to see them out, and in fell Courtney.

"Courtney!" Ginny exclaimed, seeing her best friend lying on the floor in front of her.

"Miss Wirth," Dumbledore said, giving her a stern look that made her blush to the roots of her hair. 

"Detention with Filch for the rest of the week, I know," she mumbled, getting up.

"Try until the holidays come," he replied.

"Fine," she muttered. "I didn't hear anything, though. Someone soundproofed the door."

Dumbledore chuckled.

~

After many twists and turns, and doors and stairs, the headmaster stopped before a stone statue of an unremarkable looking witch with a bland expression. 

"Specula," he said clearly. Instantly, the statue burst into life and jumped aside, giving Cass a menacing look in the mean time. Behind her, an opening in the stone wall had appeared and inside it was a set of stairs. Without hesitation, Dumbledore began to climb them. Looking at Cass, Alex shrugged and followed him, with Cary behind him. Shrugging off the nasty look the stature was giving her, she walked up the stairs after them.

~

They were almost to the Fat Lady, when Hermione grabbed Harry's arm with thoughtful look on her face. "What was the password Dumbledore told us?"

Harry looked as if he were trying to remember. "Spatula…?" he said, a confused expression on his face.

"It was 'specula'," chimed in Ginny, who had stopped to see what they were pausing for.

"Why?" Harry asked her, puzzled. "What does it mean?"

Hermione looked as if something had just made itself clear to her. "It's Latin," she said. "It means 'ray of hope'." 


	6. Meetings

Chapter 5  
  
Meetings  
  
Harry did not know what to think. He lay in his four-poster bed, staring up at the dark canopy with a mixture of feelings. Hermione had interpreted what the password meant, but Harry wondered whether it actually signified anything. Why couldn't it just be a password? The Gryffindor dormitories had had everything from plant names to silly sayings the Fat Lady thought were cute for passwords. Of course, the Fat Lady was a bit of a flake, and as Harry lay there, he contemplated how every name in the magical world seemed to have significance. The Slytherin dungeons usually used things like "pureblood", spells used Latin for whatever they did as incantations, and even names had depth. He never would understand why Malfoy was named after a constellation.  
Ray of hope. What exactly had Dumbledore said that evening in the kitchens? He couldn't remember it all, but he did remember the feeling that had accompanied the words. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, a little like deja vu with a horrific twist and magnified about a thousand times.  
"Ron?" he called out, making sure he wasn't loud enough to wake up the others.  
"Hmm?" came the muffled voice of Ron, sounding as if his face were buried in his pillow.  
"Are you awake?"  
"Harry, you twit, would I be responding if I wasn't?"  
"Oh, right. I knew that."  
"Sure you did. So, what's going on? You thinking about Cass and Cary and that Alex fellow?"  
"Yeah. How'd you know?"  
"Because I am too." Ron made a rustling noise that sounded like he was sitting up.  
"Cass looked scared," Harry said, sounding slightly subdued.  
'Yeah, well, I can't say that I don't blame her. Fate is a scary thing to think about."  
Harry made an assenting sound. "And Alex...it was almost as if he knew what happened to them was going to happen. Do you think he has the Sight or something?"  
"The Sight is such a crock. I don't care what Dumbledore says." Harry snorted. "No, I think he's just a lot more perceptive than he appears. And I'm willing to bet he's really powerful too."  
"Funny to think of Lupin as a father."  
"Yeah, he's always seems more like an uncle-type of figure."  
"It must really be something to get to meet your father," Harry said quietly.  
Ron was silent. Then he said, "Harry..."  
"Don't Ron, just don't," he replied, a slightly bitter note in his voice. "What do you suppose Lupin's going to say?"  
"Not a clue."  
They were silent for a moment, and then Ron spoke up again. "You don't believe Dumbledore was really getting pumpernickel bread, do you?"  
"Not a whit."  
  
Though Harry and Ron did not know it, Ginny was less than a hundred meters from them, lying awake as well. On the nightstand lay the rose Alex had given her earlier, blooming ceaselessly, but Ginny wasn't thinking about that, though that had had to be one of the most romantic things ever to happen to her. She wasn't even thinking about the way Draco Malfoy had been looking at the girl, or the way Hermione had acted completely stupid. He has beautiful eyes, she thought instead, smiling slightly to herself.  
Throughout Ginny's less than satisfactory romantic life, she had always found herself attracted to nice eyes. It was her weak spot, like Hermione's was smiles and Ron's (though he would not admit it) was petite brunettes who buried themselves in books and schoolwork. She wasn't sure what Harry's was, but at that precise moment she didn't care either. That was why she'd had such a humongous crush on Harry for so long—it wasn't because he was a hero or famous, it was because he had gorgeous eyes that you had to be blind not to notice. Her first boyfriend ever, Michael Corner, had had soft blue ones the exact shade of the bellflowers that grew in the meadows around The Burrow. Dean had these wonderful deep brown ones with flecks of copper in them, and Draco had absolutely wonderful silver- gray ones, like storm clouds, that were beautiful and mysterious and absolutely terrible all at once. Of course, she had known she shouldn't have accepted Malfoy's offer, but she couldn't help herself, and besides which, there had been more to the matter than it being the perfect way to get back at Ron for trying to talk Dean out of dating her.  
But Alex's eyes...Alex's eyes were more exquisite than any she had ever seen. Harry and Draco's were striking, but Alex's were subtle and alluring. They were soft, and peaceful and calming, like the ocean before a storm. They were blue and green and gray and even violet, all mixed together, with a thick fringe of dark lashes surrounding them, and Ginny thought she could probably stare into them all day, given the chance, with no regard to Alex himself. The girl and the boy that he was with, Cass and Cary were their names, surely had handsome eyes too. Cass's were exotic and outlandish, and Cary's were incredibly bright and animate, a little like Dumbledore's in that repect. Cary could reflect the world in his eyes, and Cass's could enchant anyone if you peered into them long enough. But Alex's eyes were better. She didn't figure anyone but she had ever noticed before, because they were so subtle and she just made a habit of looking at people's eyes, but that made it even better. It felt like discovering a chest of treasure that had passed out of all human knowledge long ago.  
But of course, it wasn't as if anything would happen between them.  
Ginny slipped out of bed and quietly walked over to one of her housemate's bed, opening the lid to the trunk as quietly as she could. She took the Wizard's Wireless out, and shut the trunk. Bethany wouldn't mind, she never did.  
Sitting back on her bed, she cast a silencing spell on the scarlet curtains. Opening up her remaining Potions homework at the same time, she switched on the small radio.  
"--has decided the remaining prisoners of Azkaban will be transferred to a smaller prison, called simply "Dirus", location unknown. Not really sure how to take that, but whatever Cornelius Fudge wants, aye mate? Anyway, enough of that dismal rubbish..." The speaker on the wireless continued to talk, obviously just getting through with the important news, since the next thing of interest was the announcement of one of the Weird Sisters' wedding engagement.  
"Moonstone, porcupine blood, essence of murtlap, piranha spleen," Ginny muttered to herself, counting off ingredients, trying to figure out what she had left out of the recipe for a Serenity Solution.  
"...and that's it for the news. Now, you all know what time it is, especially if you're actually up this late listening. But to those of you who don't know, this is Muggle Madness on Monday at Midnight, say goodbye to Sunday mate, it's a new week, and what better way to start such a godforsaken day as Monday than with a little music. Say what you will about those Muggles, they have some absolutely fabulous music. Here's Sarah McLachlan, darlings, with 'Building A Mystery'. Try to get some sleep those of you out there listening."  
"Yeah right," muttered Ginny as the song started.  
  
You come out at night That's when the energy comes And the dark side's light And the vampires roam...  
  
"Hey, Ginny, what were you doing up so late?" Brittany Cramer asked the next morning, while reaching for the oatmeal.  
"Oh, did I wake you? Dammit, I thought I cast that silencing spell well. I'm sorry," Ginny swore, handing her the bowl.  
"No, you didn't wake me, I was dreaming about those stupid Geiko commercials again and I woke up. I saw your light on," said Brittany, blushing slightly.  
"One night spent in an American Muggle hotel watching television and you're doomed for life," Bethany Springer remarked. "Remind me to never do that. Finishing your Potions were you?" she asked Ginny, raising her eyebrows.  
"Yeah," said Ginny, giving a heavy sigh. "I was finishing that essay for McGonagall all yesterday and I didn't have time for Snape's. Merlin knows when I'll get my Charms done, I've got practice after class today and Katie'll have us out there until we can't see the brooms beneath us. Ron really wasn't exaggerating it, fifth year is a bitch."  
"Can I borrow it before lunch then?" Bethany asked, grinning. "After all, you used my Wireless."  
"How'd you know?"  
"It was gone this morning when I looked for it and you always stay up for that hack Muggle music on Sunday nights." Bethany wiped muffin crumbs from the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "Duh."  
"Hey, I happen to like Muggle music."  
"Which I will never understand. Pass the eggs."  
Ginny handed over the plate and stood up. "Sure, you can borrow it. Remind me about it later, though. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got places to go and people to see."  
"Oh really? Who would that be?" Brittany asked slyly.  
"No one. Dean. Gotta have him look over my Charms homework before he leaves for Divination,"Ginny said briskly, slinging her bag over her shoulder.  
"You just said you hadn't gotten it done yet," Bethany said shrewdly.  
"Whatever, I meant Transfiguration."  
"Sure you did," Bethany and Brittany chimed in at the same time. Ginny wasn't listening though. Instead, she was heading out the doors to the west staircase, the complete opposite direction of the Gryffindor common room, which was the only place to find Dean Thomas before 8 o'clock on Monday morning.  
  
"Out of my way, Malfoy."  
"Kiss my ass Potter, I have as much right to be here as you do."  
"How can you too argue so well at such an early hour of the morning?" asked a tired voice behind them.  
Whirling around at the same time, Harry and Draco were faced with a puffy-eyed Ginny giving them a withering look.  
"He started it," Harry said, pointing at Draco accusatorily.  
"That's mature, Potter," Draco sneered, crossing his arms.  
"And telling me to kiss your ass is? You're such a hypocrite!"  
"Oh, shove it, both of you. Honestly, could you be any more childish?" Ginny shoved past both of them and looked at the statue of Irma the Insipid. "Specula," she said clearly. The statue sighed and moved out of the way, revealing a stone staircase.  
"Ginny! I cannot believe you're taking The Ferret's side!" Harry protested, as she began walking up the stairs. She didn't bother to respond as the stone door closed behind her.  
Ginny walked on, shifting her bag and sighing as she contemplated the two boys she had left behind. Would they ever get along? Probably not, she thought, answering her own question. In fact, compared to the way they normally interacted, they had just been acting almost civil. But Ginny pushed these thoughts form her mind as she walked upwards. What was she doing here? She should have been walking to Charms now, not going to visit some people she barely knew the names of. She stopped suddenly, biting her lip, wondering if this was the right thing to do. What would they say? Hell, they probably wouldn't even be awake yet. She certainly wouldn't be if she didn't have to be. Ginny sighed, steeling her resolve and walking on, deciding that if she had come this far, she would at least say hello. Ginny was suddenly struck with the thought of Draco, who only managed to make friends by being sarcastic and cynical. She giggled, dismissing the thought, and walked on, finally coming to a plain wooden door. She was about to knock when suddenly, a loud boom that would have done Fred and George proud emanated from the room beyond. Forgetting all about knocking, Ginny opened the door only to gasp at the state of the room, which was in complete and total disarray. To complete the scene was a dust covered Cass sitting in the middle of the disaster, giggling hysterically. "Cary, did you see that? Alex looks like..." she managed to gasp, only to dissolve into giggles once again before finishing the sentence. Looking around, Ginny managed to finally locate Alex among the wreckage. He was quite the sight, she had to admit, having skin the color of grass and four extra arms sprouting out of the middle of his back. Cary was nearby, standing completely speechless with a piece of toast held forgotten in his hand. "Uh..." Ginny looked at Alex and was, for the first time in a long time at a complete loss for words. Cary snapped out of his reverie and looked at Ginny with a slightly hysterical look in his eyes. "Please tell me there's a way to reverse this." "Why, I...well..." Ginny still struggled to find words to say. She cleared her throat and walked over to Cass, who was, by this time, completely incapable of speech because she was laughing so hard. "Cohibeo," she said, touching her wand to Cass's temple. Immediately, she stopped laughing. "Sobering spell," she told Cary in response to the questioning look he gave her. "Invented after the wizard Hubert Hornsby actually died from laughing too hard." Cary just nodded. Cass took a few breaths and looked up at Ginny gratefully. "Thanks," she muttered, surveying the mess around her. She walked over to where Alex stood giving her a glare that would have frightened Lucius Malfoy himself. "Oh, Alex, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, really," she said, grimacing. Just then, the door opened, revealing Draco, half towing Harry behind him who seemed to be clutching his ribs. "Draco, what did you do?" Ginny shrieked, swooping down on them. "What did I do? He's the imbecile who punched me first!" "And then he then kicked himself in his own ribs, right?" she snarled, taking Harry and touching ribs gently. Harry sucked in his breath. "No, but you don't exactly see me looking like the epitome of perfection I usually am, either, do you?" he said indignantly. "The bastard almost broke my nose!" "I suppose he did this completely unprovoked?" "Yes!" Ginny quirked an eyebrow and Draco crossed his arms sullenly. "And hell is just a sauna," she muttered darkly. It was then that Draco noticed the room for the first time. "Merlin, what happened in here?" Alex made an indignant sound. Draco noticed him and stared for a few minutes. Then he began laughing, clutching his side within seconds of starting. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he laughed, shaking with silent laughter at the vision before him. Ginny stomped on his foot, and he yelped, stopping almost immediately. "Who is that?" he gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Your mum, Malfoy," Harry snapped, still clutching his side. "Potter, I'm warning you. Stop it with the cracks about my mother or I'll personally rip out your vocal cords so you can't say them anymore," Draco growled. "Yeah, right Malfoy. I'd like to see you try it. You can't make me do anything, not unless your only son died for my sins." Harry stood up, massaging his side. "Shut up, both of you!" Ginny cried, rubbing her temples. "Here, let me just do this," she said "Repurgo,' she said, flourishing her wand again. Instantly, the room was returned to its original state. "What?" she asked in response to Harry's questioning stare. "You think that after as many years as I've had to watch my mother clean up after Fred and George I wouldn't have picked up anything?" "Yeah, okay, that explains that." Draco turned to Cass. "What did you attempt to do, exactly?" he asked in a condescending tone. She giggled. "The spells at the beginning of the book were boring, so I flipped to the back. I was trying to turn Alex's hair red. I guess it didn't work all that well, did it?" She grinned. "No, you twittering idiot, it worked perfectly. That's why your friend looks like someone tried to cross a tree with a bug." Her grin disappeared and was replaced with a glare that would have turned Draco to stone if had been possible. Draco didn't seem to notice though; he was too busy giving Alex a calculating look. "Antea," he finally said. Slowly, Alex's skin color turned back to its original color and with a pop! the arms disappeared. "How did you know that?" Harry asked incredulously. "You don't spend as much time with Crabbe and Goyle as I used to without picking up a few handy counter curses. They attempted to do the same thing in second year, trying to turn their hair a bright orange that would have been an uncanny impression of a Weasley," he drawled, looking at his fingernails. Ginny glared at him heatedly. "My hair is not orange," she said defensively. "Of course it's not," Draco said absently, picking some dirt from underneath his thumbnail. Ginny looked around the room for the first time, noting it was very elegantly decorated. Even Malfoy probably couldn't find a problem with it, except maybe the Gryffindor red curtains that hung on either side of the enormous window on the opposite wall, which stretched all the way from the ceiling to the floor, a height of forty feet easily. The window was immaculately clear, except in the middle where a beautiful stained glass picture took the place of the regular glass. It showed four people, two women, who were sitting down, and two men, who were standing behind them. They were each dressed in a different color; one woman in a rich golden yellow, the other in a deep blue. The darker man was in a vivid green and the other in a brilliant shade of scarlet. Their features were slightly distorted, being cast in glass, but there was no mistaking who they were. Ginny was looking at the founders. "So, anyway," Cary said, attempting to break the awkward silence that had enveloped them. "Don't you all have class or something?" "Oh, bloody hell," Harry said, looking at his watch. "I've got Divination in 5 minutes!" He picked up his bag, and clutching his side, half-ran to the door. Ginny's shoulders slumped. "Bugger. That means I'm going to be late for Charms." She found her bag and started for the door after Harry, making sure to whisper in Cary's ear on the way, "Don't let Cass anywhere near the noisemaking charms." "I suppose that means I should be in Transfiguration," Draco drawled, obviously not in as much of a hurry as the other two. Lazily, he found his bag and started for the door. "Have a good day," he said carelessly, leaving. Outside, Ginny almost ran into Harry. "What did you stop for?" "I wanted to talk to you." "About?" "Malfoy. What did you ever date him and why did you continue to associate with him after you two broke up?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "Because he asked," Ginny said, not wanting to have this conversation. She started to walk towards the Charms corridor. "But what about the fact that his father tried to kill you?" Harry asked bluntly, walking with her. "Harry, you should already know the answer to that." He looked at her blankly. "He cannot help who his parents are anymore than you can." She sighed. "He cannot help that he was raised to show no emotion, no weakness, only cruelty to those who were not his equals economically, intellectually or in terms of lineage. He is vain, yes, spoiled, certainly, and more than a little spiteful sometimes, but the fact that he managed to turn out as well as he did is a miracle. He asked me out, not vice-versa. That in itself should show he's not like his father. I'm surprised I had to explain that, to you of all people." She shifted her bag. Harry grumbled. "Alright, I can kind of see where you're coming from, but I still don't like him." "And I wouldn't expect any less from you." "What is that supposed to mean?" "I'm just saying it's understandable that you don't like him. You've been bitter enemies since you got to this school and he's never treated you with anything but hostility. He's always shoving the fact that your parents are dead in your face. He's picked on Hermione about her heritage and my brother about our family's financial problems. He has never given you a reason to do anything less than hate him, and I'm certainly not condoning what he's done and said, but I will not condemn him for it either, because I know the real person hidden underneath it all." Harry frowned. "What?" Ginny asked him. "Oh, I dunno Ginny. It's just, well, he never once gave you a reason to tolerate him the way you do until a couple of months ago when he finally decided to acknowledge you were more than the dirt under his fingernails. How can you forgive him for everything so easily?" He ran his hand through his hair. "Like I said before, I know who he really is and that's not a person to hate, no matter what his history is." "That was really weird of him, though," Harry said conversationally. "What was?" "The way he snapped at Cass a few minutes ago. It was so unexpected, considering he was almost actually acting like a human to her last night." Ginny laughed. "Sometimes I think he has Multiple Personality Disorder," she said quietly, a smile playing on her face. "But do you want to know why he was so nasty to her today?" "Yes." "He was embarrassed about last night because he let his guard down to her when he had barely even spoken to her. So he's blaming it on her and punishing her for it. It's just the way he functions. Nothing is ever his fault, you see, there's always someone else to blame. In his eyes, anyway." Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really," she told him. "Wow, and all this time I thought he had no more depth than a paper doll," Harry muttered, only half joking. Ginny just rolled her eyes. "I've got to get to Charms," she said, turning down another corridor. "See you later, Harry."  
  
"Hey Cary, d'you know what these things are?" Cass picked up a red object from the basket on the counter of the kitchen that the tower included.  
"I believe that would be an apple," Cary said, looking up from the book he had picked off the shelf in the living room or the apartment.  
"No way!"  
"Yes, really. I've seen pictures of them. Take a bite, they're really very tasty." He smiled at the fascination his sister was showing the fruit.  
"What about this?"  
"An orange."  
"And this?"  
"A pear."  
"This is so cool!" Cass bit down hard on the apple, the juices running down her chin as she chewed. "Umm, yum, this is really good."  
All sorts of fruit trees had disappeared with the start of open nuclear war between several countries because of the unique composition of the radioactive chemicals used in the bombings. Legends told of a land overridden with every kind of fruit known, but the seriousness of such a tale was debatable and the story was often shrugged off as a fantasy created by the minds of desperate men. They had been able to biologically engineer new types of fruit, but never had oranges or bananas been truly replaced.  
Alex sat down beside Cary on the sofa and drew his knees up to his chin.  
Cass sat down on a plush blue chair next to the sofa, fruit bowl in hand, and looked quizzically at her friend.  
"Everything alright, Alex? I mean, besides the fact that we've somehow traveled back in time and are sitting in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry eating apples." She bit into a yellow apple and let out a sound of contentment.  
"Actually, you're the only one eating an apple. Are you going to devour that entire basket?" Alex pointed out, ignoring her question deliberately.  
"Probably. Why? Do you want some?"  
"No."  
"Good, because I wasn't going to share anyway."  
Alex laughed quietly. "Actually, one of those peaches would be nice..."  
"Too bad for you that they're mine."  
Alex laughed again.  
"You never answered my question, Browning."  
"Oh, so now we're using surnames, huh?"  
"Answer the question, Browning."  
"I don't seem to remember what the question is, Stratton," Alex said lazily, leaning back and looking up at the murals on the ceiling.  
"You know very well what the question was."  
Alex didn't respond right away. "Alright. No, something isn't alright."  
"What's wrong?"  
"Oh, you mean other than the fact that I'm going to meet my father in only a few hours and the only thing I know about him, besides his name, is that he's a lycanthrope?"  
Cass didn't say anything for a while. After a few moments, she got up from her chair, setting the now half-empty fruit bowl down, and sat on the glass table opposite of the sofa. Leaning forward, she took Alex's clenched hands in hers and squeezed them gently. "Alex, look at me." Reluctantly, he turned his head and met her eyes. "Everything is going to be fine, do you understand me?" His mouth twisted into a very stubborn expression. "Alex, I promise, I will not let any bad come out of this, alright? You have wanted to know your father for too long, and I won't let anything ruin what you might have with him now. Do you hear me? I will not let anything ruin this or get in its way. I swear, on the entire universe and everything it holds, you will not come out of this with nothing. It's impossible to tell you how much I love my dad. All I want is for you to know that same affection for your own father, no holding back. I only wish you had this same opportunity with your mum." She gave him a small smile. "Okay?"  
He smiled back reluctantly. "Okay." He stood up, pulling her with him. "Thanks Cass," he said hoarsely.  
"Hey, don't worry about it," she said gently, hitting his arm. He tugged a lock of her hair that had escaped the ponytail she had pulled it back in.  
"I hate to ruin the moment guys, but you're kind of standing on my foot," Cary said grumpily, finally emerging from the depths of his book.  
"Oh! Sorry Cary, didn't mean to," Cass apologized, stepping aside.  
"It wouldn't have been so bad if you didn't weigh so much. Honestly, haven't you ever heard of a diet? Oof!" Cass laughed outright as she plopped herself down on his lap.  
"So I'm fat am I?" she questioned.  
"Incredibly," her brother said, grinning, knowing she knew he was lying.  
"You two," muttered Alex, rolling his eyes. "I pity your poor parents."  
"And I," Cass said, standing up and giving Alex a shove, "pity your father for ever having to meet you."  
"Oh yeah?" asked Alex in a mocking voice.  
"Yeah. What're you going to say to that? Hey! Get away from that fruit! Alex, those are mine! That's not funny!"  
Cass tackled Alex, as roughly as she could and beside them, Cary was laughing heartily. Within minutes, they were all out of breath and the victims of laughter that would not stop. It's worth wondering, however, how the days to come might have changed if one of them had simply taken time to look up at the window and notice the dark, hawk-like pair of eyes that were watching them through Helga Hufflepuff's lifeless, pale blue ones.  
  
"You know Alex, it's already past 1:30. Do you even know where Dumbledore's office is?"  
"Are you serious? Oh no!" Alex scrambled up from the rug he'd been previously pinned against and looked at the large clock on the wall. Sure enough, he little more than twenty minutes to find Dumbledore's office.  
"Alex, do you want us to go with you?" Cary asked him seriously.  
Alex thought about this for a moment. "Yes, but only there, if you don't mind. Do you?"  
Cass looked at him incredulously. "Of course not!"  
"Alright, then let's go."  
Cass grabbed the cloak she had found inside her room, and fastened it around her neck. "Hey, look, we really are in ancient times," she joked, sweeping the cloak over her shoulder dramatically.  
"Very funny, Cass. Now quit joking around and let's go!"  
Alex grabbed her arm and rushed her out the wooden door, Cary close behind.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, however, they were still as clueless as before. The only thing they could figure out was that they had passed the infirmary of the night before about three times. Walking down yet another unknown corridor, Cass looked into the window of a classroom and spotted Harry inside it. Grinning with her good luck, she tried to figure out a way to get him to notice her without having to barge into the classroom altogether. She didn't figure Dumbledore would be too happy with her if she did that.  
Thinking for a moment, she brightened slightly. Concentrating, she stared at the quill lying motionless on the parchment in front of Harry, who was staring vacantly out the window beside him.  
Inside the classroom, Dean Thomas slipped out of the doze he'd been in and rubbed his eyes. Looking sideways, he noticed Harry's quill behaving oddly. As far as he knew, Harry steered as far away as he could from Quick Quotes Quills, but for some reason, it was still writing something down on it's own.  
"Harry," he said quietly, nudging him. "Harry!"  
"Huh?" Harry said, tearing his eyes away from the window, where he'd been watching a few second year Hufflepuffs throw snowballs at each other.  
"What's wrong with your quill?"  
Harry looked down. Strangely enough, it was carefully writing something in loopy, uncontrolled handwriting. "Look at door," he read slowly as it finished and dropped onto the parchment again. Frowning, he did as it asked and sucked in his breath as he realized Cass was motioning frantically at him to come out into the hallway.  
He bit his lip and looked back at Dean, who was attempting to fall back asleep. "Dean!" he whispered urgently. "Oh, leave me alone Hermione. What's the worst I'm going to do? Wake someone else up from their nap?" he hissed at Hermione, who was giving him a dirty look and putting her fingers to her lips.  
Dean sniggered quietly.  
"Want to get out of here?" Harry asked him conspiratorially.  
"Now there's an understatement."  
"Act sick."  
"What?"  
"Just pretend you're going to chuck your lunch or something."  
Dean raised an eyebrow at him but did as he asked. Looking nauseous, he put one hand on over his mouth and the other on his stomach.  
"Professor," Harry said loudly.  
Binns looked up slowly, and blinked, looking at the class as if it were the first time he realized they were there. "Yes, Perkins?" he asked Harry slowly.  
"I think Dean's going to be sick. Can I take him to see Pomfrey?" Dean moaned loudly.  
"Oh, yes, yes..." he said, going back to his notes and resuming his lecture on goblin rebellions.  
Acting as if he were supporting Dean to the door, he grabbed his bag as they passed his seat. Binns took no notice, continuing to drone on about Merrog the Malicious.  
"You know, I think he has given us that same lecture every single class since we got here without realizing it," Dean said exasperatedly, straightening up as soon as they were out the door.  
Harry looked around. Where was Cass? He hadn't been imagining her, had he?  
"Harry, we've got a problem," she said, suddenly standing behind him.  
He whirled around. "Merlin, don't do that! Where did you come from?"  
"I was standing behind that statue over there. Some students passed by and I'm still unclear whether we're supposed to be seen by anyone else or not. Dumbledore didn't say either way."  
"Uh, Harry..."  
Harry looked sideways at Dean, who was obviously unsure whether he should go or stay.  
"Oh! Sorry Dean. Cass, this is Dean Thomas, a friend of mine. Dean, this is Cass Stratton." Cass looked warily at the tall boy standing next to Harry and after a few seconds, stretched out her hand, deeming him trustworthy. She shook his hand.  
"Hello," she said uncertainly.  
"Hi," Dean said, smiling. "I don't think I know you. What house are you in?"  
"House...?"  
"She's not in a House, Dean, she doesn't go to school here," Harry told him.  
Dean looked at him with a confused expression. "What is she doing here then?"  
"It's a long story. Ask Ginny or Malfoy some time, they'll tell you." Dean still looked confused, but didn't say anything else. "Cass, what's wrong?"  
"We can't find Dumbledore's office," she said. "And Alex has that meeting with Dumbledore in ten minutes..."  
"Where is he?" As if on cue, Cary and Alex emerged warily from an unused classroom down the hall.  
"Blimey, there's more of them?" Dean asked, surprised.  
"Dean, this is Cary Stratton and Alex Browning. Alex, Cary, this is Dean Thomas." Cary and Alex nodded.  
"Are you two related?" Dean looked from Cass to Cary.  
"Yeah, he's my twin brother." Cass said, smiling slightly, knowing what his reaction was going to be.  
"You two are twins?" Harry and Dean said together. The only experience either had had with twins previously had been Fred and George, who were so identical it was hard for Mrs. Weasley to tell them apart, and Padma and Parvati Patil, who were also identical looking.  
"Yeah, amazing ain't it?" Cary laughed, pulling his sister's hair.  
"Anyway, Harry, can you help us?"  
"Yeah, sure, this way." Harry started walking down toward the end of the corridor, making sure to look at Dean in a way that showed it was okay for him to follow.  
"Hey Harry, who are these people?" Dean hissed in his ear. "I've never even seen them before, and they sound English. I mean, if they were Muggle, they couldn't be here, but Hogwarts is the only Wizarding school in Britain. What's going on?"  
"Ask me later, Dean. Or better yet, ask Ginny. I was kind of out of it last night." Harry sighed.  
"Wait, does this have to do with why you and Ron came in so late?"  
"Yeah."  
Dean looked at him shrewdly but didn't say anything more.  
"Here we are," he said, talking to the three behind him.  
"I don't see an office," Cass said, crossing her arms. Harry smiled slightly. "Cass, you should have realized by now, this is Hogwarts. Nothing is as it seems."  
  
"Come in."  
After knocking, Alex walked in cautiously. No one was there, however, except Dumbledore, sitting in the chair behind his desk.  
"Ah, Mister Browning. I thought that might be you. It looks as if Professor Lupin is running slightly late, so I shall go and see what is keeping him." He stood up from his chair, and picked up his wand from the desktop. Seeing Cass and Cary standing in the doorway hesitantly, he smiled. "Mister and Miss Stratton. Why don't you come with me? I shall be wanting a word, if you please. Oh, and is that Mister Potter and Mister Thomas behind you? Goodness, it seems as if I've got quite a lot of visitors today. How are you, Dean? Professor McGonagall says you are doing excellently this year. Top of your class, ahead of Miss Granger, even, she says."  
"Hello, Headmaster. I'm doing well," Dean said, smiling and looking pleased with himself.  
"Well, that's always good to hear. However, why don't Mister Potter and yourself get to class? Thank you for showing Mister Browning the way to my office." His blue eyes twinkled knowingly.  
Harry and Dean left, looking rather disappointed and Dumbledore turned to the twins. "Shall we then? Alexander, it shall not take more that a few moments, if you'll please wait here." The headmaster ushered Cass and Cary out the door and closed it behind him without another word.  
Alex sighed, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering slightly. Looking around, he noticed a very ugly bird in a cage in the corner. It looked as if it were sleeping. Not wanting to disturb it, he walked toward one of the many bookcases, examining the strange silver instruments that seemed to hum slightly. There were portraits of people lining the walls, and he had the distinct impression they were watching him, though to all appearances they were sleeping, snoring softly in their frames.  
Not seeing any other chair in the room besides the one behind the desk, Alex sat down in it and spun it around, facing the upper level to the room and looked at it curiously. There were more bookshelves up there, and a door behind them. He supposed that's where the headmaster's private quarters were, behind the door at the end.  
Behind him, the door opened and someone walked in. Someone, Alex realized with a light flip of his stomach, with much softer steps than the headmaster.  
Spinning the chair around slowly, Alex nervously looked into the face of the man that had just entered the office.  
"Dad?" 


	7. Light Words and Insecurities

Chapter 6  
Light Words and Insecurities When Sara passed away in his hands, Remus Lupin did not think he would be able to live past her. Months after she'd been buried in the small family plot, as one of his own, he continued to wallow in the despair that haunted his every thought. He was ravaged - for the first time in his life he had known what it felt like to be in love and to be loved in return. She had appeared out of no where one morning in his seventh year at Hogwarts, and the moment he had seen her, she had enchanted him. She was beautiful - her eyes were captivating, her bright golden hair had flowed down her back in silky waves, she had held more grace than he thought possible for any human - but that wasn't the reason she had captured his attentions. He had loved her because she was willing to overlook the fact that he was a werewolf, something he'd never known anyone to do. True, his three best friends had not held it against him either, but they had only found out years after knowing him. She had known it from the start - and not cared. Now, so many years after the wound had closed up, Remus was once again faced with her, and the old scar was ripped violently open, revealing a hurt he had thought he would never have to experience again. It was not her in the literal sense, of course, but her face peered out at him from the boy who stood before him. "Dad?" he asked hoarsely, obviously nervous. "Can it be?" Remus whispered, staring at the boy as if he were seeing things. He didn't say anything, just swallowed thickly and walked around the desk toward him cautiously. Slowly, Remus brought a hand up to the familiar yet alien face and touched his fingers to the boy's cheek. "Alexander James." "Yes," Alex said hesitantly, unsure what he was supposed to do now. Remus smiled faintly. "She told me she was going to name you that. I told her not to, but she wouldn't listen." There was no mistaking who the "she" he was talking about was. "Why not?" Alex asked softly. "Because I didn't want you named after me or her father. I thought it was awful, naming a kid after his family. It was like he wasn't allowed to have an identity of his own, just his father's. It doesn't seem so horrible now though," he added softly. "But your name is Remus..." "James is my middle name, Alexander was your grandfather's name." They stared at each other for a long time, both trying to figure out the other. How much time passed this way, neither could say. Then, suddenly, as if he'd been waiting to do it the entire time, Remus pulled Alex forward and embraced him in a rib-crushing hug. "My son," he whispered over and over again, smiling at the words he had longed to speak for so long.  
"You look so much like her," Remus marveled, shaking his head and smiling. He couldn't seem to stop smiling. "Really? What was she like?" Alex asked hungrily, happiness breaking over him like a wave every moment he spent with the man in front of him. His father, not just a man, he reminded himself dazedly. "She was amazing," Remus said simply, still smiling. "She was utterly beautiful. She had this long mane of gorgeous blonde hair that tumbled all the way down her back in shimmering waves. I didn't normally go for blondes, but her hair was that rare shade that reminds you of sunlight and champagne. She had these amazing eyes - which you got partly - that could entrance you. They always seemed so animate, so full of life and laughter. That was another thing I loved about her - her laugh. It was so clear and bubbly. She laughed often too; she had a great sense of humor. That's what Sirius liked so much about her. They were right chums, they were, from the start, and together they were as dangerous as hydrogen gas and a lit match. They were always doing something they shouldn't have. James liked her too, but at that point he was so wrapped up in Lily he didn't spend much time with her. We were quite the group though, when together. There were James and Sirius, the best friends Hogwarts had ever seen, and Lily and Sara who were equally close, and James and Lily, who were so in love at that point, and of course, little Peter, who was so full of innocent envy and awe for the friends he had managed to surround himself with." Alex soaked up every word. "It sounds perfect," he said. "It was. We all graduated, and started our lives with so much care. Lily and James were married as soon as seventh year ended and bought a house in Godric Hollow, not very far from the house your mother and I were living in. Sirius rented a flat in London, but he usually ended up staying at our respective homes more often than his own. I don't think he liked being away from all his friends, to tell you the truth. Peter was ever present, always bringing Lily lilies and Sara a book of poetry or the like, being enamored of them both but knowing he couldn't have either one, and just being content with being their friend. Lily became pregnant and I'd never seen James so happy. Nine months later, Harry was born. A month later, almost exactly, Sara was gone." His voice, which had been so happy up until then, held a note of sadness as he said this. "And things went downhill from there. Peter become more withdrawn, dropping by less often and being far less friendly then he had been before when he did. Lily and James had to go into hiding, and only a few months after Harry's first birthday, they were murdered, their last act a desperate attempt at protecting their son. Sirius went after Peter, knowing finally what he had been up to and what he had done. At the very last moment, you have to understand, he had insisted they choose Peter as their Secret Keeper instead of him, thinking he would be too obvious a choice. He was sent to Azkaban for Peter's crimes and Peter escaped, naught to be seen for twelve years. Everything came crashing to a halt." Alex gave him a horrified look. "Paradise lost," he said solemnly. "Exactly. But let's not talk about this dismal nonsense, alright?" he smiled again. "Tell me about your life." Alex smiled slightly. "Well, where do I start?" "Well, how about starting with your friends. Was that them, the two that were with Dumbledore? I didn't take much notice of them at the time, but now that I think about it, I didn't recognize either of them." "Yes, those were my friends. My only two friends, to tell you the truth." He didn't notice the sad look Remus gave him. "But they're great, they really are. The girl is Cass, and she, I dunno. She's just Cass. Not much more you can say about her," Alex said, chuckling. Remus raised his eyebrows at his son. "Well, let me put it to you this way. This morning, when looking through her new spell book, she decided to try and turn my hair red. The only thing she managed to do, however, was turn my skin green and give me four extra arms. She thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever seen." Remus laughed. "I think I see what you mean. What about the other one?" "Oh, that's Cary. He's my best friend and Cass's twin brother. He balances her, rather remarkably, actually; she's fiery and curious and full of life, and he hides himself behind locked doors and buries himself in books and knowledge. He's calm, she's turbulent. It's funny, actually, how different they are when they came out of the same womb at the same time. They're both really kind, though." "He sounds like a good person. They both sound like good people." "He is. They are. I couldn't wish for better friends." Alex smiled up at Remus. "My life's not very exciting, I'm afraid. I go to school, I get satisfactory grades, I have friends, if not many. I do occasionally get into a fight, but not very often." "You get into fights?" Remus asked, looking worried. "Yeah," Alex said tersely. "Where we come from, not very many people are born with full Wizarding power. Actually, I'm the only one and you can see why. People are afraid of me, and occasionally there'll be a brave fool who will start trying to ridicule me about my lack of a family or understanding of what I am." "People treat what they do not understand with hate and fear," Remus said wisely, a knowing look on his face. Alex was quiet for a moment. "So, am I supposed to call you Dad now, or what?" Remus smiled broadly. "I would be greatly honored if you called me your dad." Alex nodded. "Alright. Dad," he added, almost shyly. Alex hugged him again, suddenly very glad he had found someone he could embrace like this. "I'm glad I've finally gotten to meet you." Remus hugged him back, slightly startled at the tone of insecurity in Alex's voice. For all of his light words, Remus seriously doubted if his newly found son's life was as simple as he said. In fact, he doubted any part of it was. He would definitely have to rectify that.  
"Holy Circe, has it really been two hours?" Remus asked, surprised as he looked at Dumbledore's clock, which ticked softly on the wall. He grinned. They'd spent the entire time talking. "Has it?" Alex asked, tuning around to look at the clock. "Wow, it has." "Dumbledore told me he wanted to show me something in his office, and promptly closed the door as soon as I was in. I see what he was up to now. Perhaps we'd better go make sure he's not up to any more mischief?" Alex grinned, catching Remus off guard. That was her grin, he noticed, feeling a slight tug at his heartstrings. "Yeah, okay. Let's go." Why was he looking at him like that? "What?" he asked. "You have her grin," Remus said softly, smiling at a distant memory of a girl with long blonde hair who smiled to herself as she chased after fireflies. Alex smiled again, wondering what Remus was thinking about, noting the far- away look in his eyes. "Are you coming?" "Yes, yes, I'm coming," he said, the memory fading as he was pulled out of his reverie. He picked up his wand and followed his son out the door of the office. No one was outside in the hallway. "Where could they have gotten off to?" "Where are you staying?" Remus asked. "Some guest tower in the west wing." "Ah, yes, Rowena's Tower," Remus replied. "They're probably there then. Waiting for us, no doubt." Remus started walking the way Alex had come from, Alex walking beside him. Somewhere along the way, he put his arm loosely around Alex's shoulders, and Alex smiled contentedly. This was wonderful.  
As soon as Ginny left the classroom, she knew she was doomed. There was Bethany, walking toward her from the left, Dean from the right, and Courtney straight ahead. She would never get out alive. Courtney alone would make sure of that. Looking left and right, she finally made a mad dash to the right, running past Dean at breakneck speed toward the Great Hall. When in trouble, go to the Great Hall, had always been her philosophy. Especially if it was mealtime. Unfortunately, that was also Dean and Courtney's motto, and Bethany was easier killed than put off, and she wasn't dead yet. "Ginny, what the hell is going on?" "Are you going to avoid me all day or tell me what went on last night?" "Gin, are you going to give me your Potions or what?" Ginny drew a bottle out of her bag and downed the blue liquid, the headache that was forming between her eyes magically disappearing. Oh, but she did love her mother's headache remedy. She finally looked up and into the faces of her attackers. Brown, brown, and brown, their eyes were all the same, yet infinitely different. "Here Bethany," she said, slipping a roll of parchment out of her rucksack and handing it to the tall girl who was tapping her foot impatiently. "Thanks," she said briskly, making her way out the doors of the Great Hall toward the Library. "Sit down," she told the two who were left. They obeyed, looking at each other quizzically. "What's Thomas doing here?" Courtney asked, only curious. "I imagine he was sent to me by Harry who hates explaining anything to anyone." She raised an eyebrow. "Am I right?" "As always," Dean said, sniggering slightly. "Alright, what do you want to know?" Ginny spooned some potatoes onto her plate. "Who are they?" they asked simultaneously. Then they laughed. "Alex Browning and Cass and Cary Stratton." "Gee Ms. Salt, who tipped you over?" Courtney asked sarcastically. "Well, what do you want me to say? I can't explain it!" "Then tell me," Dean said, "why it is they're definitely English, but don't go to school at the only Wizarding school in Britain, which can only be found by wizards." Ginny smirked, then dropped the bomb. "Because one of the three is a wizard. At least, only one's a wizard in the conventional sense." They both stared. For the next ten minutes, Ginny told her two best friends about the three visitors, her potatoes long forgotten. "Lupin is this Alex character's father?" "Yep," Ginny said, nodding. Looking finally at her potatoes, she made a face. "I don't believe I shall be eating these. Nothing worse than cold mashed potatoes." "Oh, I dunno. Flat Coca-Cola's pretty bad," Dean remarked, looking thoughtful. "Huh?" Courtney and Ginny asked him at the same time. "Nothing, never mind..." "Anyway, Ginny, are you sure the girl's a Seer? I didn't actually think there was such a thing," Courtney said, getting the conversation back on track. "That's what Dumbledore said." "You know, I heard Harry and Ron talking last night. I wasn't listening very closely, and they were talking quietly, but I distinctly heard something about fate said. I suppose they were talking about the three?" Dean said thoughtfully. But Ginny didn't respond at all. She was staring at the doors, disbelievingly. "What are they doing here?"  
"It has come to my attention, Mister and Miss Stratton, that your presence will make itself known whether I like it or not, this being Hogwarts after all. It is Professor Snape's suggestion that you three attend classes as regular students, eating in the Great Hall at meal times and behaving as if you really went to school here. It would not be hard, you would just have to tell everyone you studied under a private tutor in London until now, when he decided that having you attend a regular school for a semester would do you good. What do you think?" Dumbledore asked them, as they sat in the living room of the Tower. "You mean we could actually go to school here?" Cass asked excitedly. "In a manner of speaking, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding. "You would not start until after the winter holidays, of course, but as to how long you will stay, I could not tell you." "Would we get sorted into Houses?" "Certainly. We would have to know what classes you were scheduled with, because it's it sorted by House, you see. Although, I do believe it would be best if you continued living here. You are still not, technically students, so staying in the guest quarters would be best. Besides, if what my intuition is true, that would at least have you three living together." Dumbledore tapped his fingertips together. "What do you mean by that?" Cary asked, speaking for the first time during the entire conversation. Dumbledore looked at him sharply. "Am I right, Mister Stratton, when I say that the three of you are the closest of friends?" "Well, yes. Very close." "Just because you are close dose not mean you are exactly alike. In fact, quite the opposite. What you have to understand, Master Cary, is that the four Houses of Hogwarts are differentiated by what qualities they most admire. Have you three noticed the window?" he asked, pointing upward. "Yes," Cass said slowly. "The four people in that picture are the four founders of Hogwarts: Salazar Slytherin, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Godric Gryffindor. The four Houses are named for them. Gryffindor most valued bravery, when he taught at this school. His House reflects that. Hufflepuff loyalty, Ravenclaw cleverness, and Slytherin ambition, each respectively. Mister Potter is a Gryffindor, and one of the finest examples of one I've ever seen. Mister Malfoy is also, respectively, a good model of what a Slytherin is supposed to represent. Miss Wirth, which you met briefly last night, is the cleverest witch in her year, and is, of course, a Ravenclaw. My point is that each of you exemplifies different attributes. I have no doubt you will each be sorted into a different House." For the first time all morning, Cass looked slightly put out. "You mean, we won't be in classes together?" "Not necessarily, Miss Stratton. Most of the time, two Houses will be put together for lessons." Cass cheered up slightly. "What classes will we be taking, Professor?" Cary asked, showing a bit of interest. "I shall give each of you a list, with a description of each. You will each be required to take Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, History of Magic, Herbology, and Astronomy, which are core classes, but the rest is up to you. Except for you, Cassandra, you shall be required to take Divination as well." "What?" she shrieked. "You mean I have to take more classes than Alex or my brother? How is that fair? Cary's the overachiever when it comes to school, not me!" "Calm down, Miss Stratton, it is nothing to yell about. The only reason for it are your special abilities. You shall also be required to take extra lessons from Professor Trelawney and Firenze in the evenings twice a week." She looked even more upset, but didn't scream any more, opting to just mutter about the unfairness of it all under her breath. "Professor," Cary said slowly, trying to figure something out. "Yes?" "Are we going to be put into classes of our age? I mean, we haven't had any training in this before..." "You are correct, Mister Browning, but because you are different than the rest of the students, you shall not have to start from the beginning. I do expect, however, you both to read certain textbooks before the start of term. I am afraid it is the only way you shall get anything out of Potions or Herbology." He looked apologetic. "What about Alex?" Cary asked. "Do not worry about Mr. Browning," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling. "I shall take care of that. However, speaking of Mr. Browning, I wonder where he and Professor Lupin are?" At that precise moment, Alex and an older man chose to make their appearance, entering through the door and obviously enjoying each other's company, as the man had his arm loosely around Alex's shoulders and they were both laughing. Evidently, this was Remus Lupin. Cary looked at the headmaster, marveling at the old man's timing. To his surprise, Dumbledore was looking back. He also noted that his azure eyes were sparkling mischievously. Alex cleared his throat and stepped forward, looking at his best friends. "Cass, Cary, erm... I'd like to introduce you to my...father," he said, his voice still husky. A grin broke out on his face as Cary leapt forward and after a moment of awkwardness, shook the older man's hand. Cass was more hesitant, stepping up behind her brother with somewhat cat- like movements. She stared at Lupin for a few minutes calculatingly, then smiled a little when he saw him begin to get uncomfortable. "Pleased to meet you, Mister Lupin," she said pleasantly, as if she hadn't just been looking at him as a lumberjack does a tree. "Don't bother with the formality, please, it's just Remus," he said, smiling back. "Does she do that to everyone?" he muttered to Alex nervously. "She's just testing you, relax. She thinks it frightens people." Remus chose not to add that it did. "Remus," Dumbledore said, rising from the couch gracefully. "I take it you and Alexander have met then?" "You always were good at understating things, Albus," Remus said, laughing lightly. "Headmaster, Alex says we're to go to Diagon Alley?" "Yes, Remus, I'm afraid so. He needs a wand. However, I think I should explain the new arrangement." At this, Cass clapped her hands together excitedly. "Alex, we're going to get to actually go to classes!" "What?" "Dumbledore said we'd better just go to regular classes, since it'll never remain a secret otherwise and it would be far worse if they found out about us that way." Cass grinned. Alex stared disbelievingly at her. "Since when have you been excited about classes?" "Since for once the classes won't be to educate us on how incredibly boring Shakespeare was." Cary looked offended. "Shakespeare was brilliant." "Yeah, brilliantly boring," Cass said, rolling her eyes. "I just wish a copy of Othello had somehow survived the War," Cary said sadly, ignoring his sister. "It was said to have been his best, and I'll never get to read it." Cass looked disgusted. "Honestly Cary, who cares?" But Cary wasn't paying attention. He was staring in disbelief at the book being held out to him by Lupin. "Othello..." he said with awe. "How...?" Lupin pointed to the bookshelf on the side of the room. "It was over there," he said simply, shrugging, trying to act nonchalant but obviously pleased. Alex smiled at the brilliant tactic his father had just used. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Alexander, there are some things we need to discuss." "Like what?" "Well, to begin with, here." He handed Alex a slip of parchment. "What's this?" "It's a list of what you shall be shopping for in Diagon Alley. I will not be going with you, but your father shall be. There are some things you will be getting for Cassandra and Cary too however, which are marked accordingly. To pay for all of it, you'll need this." He then handed him a small bag that jingled. At this, however, Lupin stepped forward. "Albus, I'll pay for his things," he said, the tone of his voice suggesting no argument. "Of course, Remus," Dumbledore said politely. "The money is simply for Cary and Cassandra's things." His eyes sparkled mysteriously. "Oh, and Alexander, one more thing." "What is it?" "Do you know what an American accent sounds like?" "Yes...why?" Alex gave him a puzzled look. "Okay, now close your eyes and concentrate on it," Dumbledore said, ignoring is question. "Why?" "Just do as he says, Alex," Remus murmured, knowing Dumbledore would only be doing whatever he was doing if he had to. Alex reluctantly shut his eyes. Dumbledore raised his hand, which now had his wand clasped in it, and murmured, "Alius vox vocis." Slowly, Alex opened his eyes again. "What was that?" he asked, his voice now holding no trace of his old accent. His eyes widened. "What did you do?" Cary asked curiously. "It's a simple accent charm, which will only last for six hours. The point of it, you three, is that no one, absolutely no one, is to know who you really are or where you came from. From now on, in fact, you will be known as Cassandra and Cary Lennox, and Alexander Grey. Mister Browning--or rather, Mister Grey--,when you are in Diagon Alley today, you'll have to pretend to be Professor Lupin's nephew from America that's come for a holiday visit. Do you understand?" He looked at the three, his expression grave. "Yes, sir," mumbled three voices--one American, two British--at the same time. "Good," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Now, there are still some things I need to discuss with you three. First of all, ground rules. Alexander, as mentioned before, you shall be attending regular classes, and as such, you will be required to take Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, Transfiguration, Charms, and History of Magic. You may choose the rest. In the fashion of regular student, you each shall be sorted into Houses, and attend classes with your House. You will eat meals in the Great Hall, and will basically put on the role of being temporary students, except that you will continue living here, in what is known to few as Rowena's Tower. If anyone asks, you studied under a tutor in London by the name of Philip von Neida. He decided it would be a good idea for you to study in a regular school for a semester, and as the only Wizarding school in Britain, you were sent here. With such a story, of course, you shall have to pretend you are, well, fairly well off--" "Oh, well, that'll be easy," Cass said, interrupting. "We're the richest kids in our class at home. Actually, we're the richest kids in the school." Dumbledore's eyes sparkled amusedly. "Of course, Cassandra. Well, as I was saying, you shall have to act well off, and you'll find that there are entire wardrobes of well fitting high-end clothes in your rooms. You will be subject to the same rules as everyone else as well, don't even begin to think you'll receive any kind of special treatment. The Forbidden Forest on the edge of the grounds is at all times forbidden, hence its name, magic in the corridors is not permitted, and of course, no students except those you met last night are allowed in the Tower, and then only in the sitting room and kitchen. Only select members of the staff will know who you really are and what your real stories are, so be careful with whom you are candid. Professor McGonagall will know, as will Professor Flitwick, Hagrid, Madam Trelawney, Firenze, and of course, Professor Lupin. No others will know and shouldn't, understood? Oh, and one more thing. Alexander, if anyone notices the resemblance between you and Professor Lupin, you are to tell them that he is a distant cousin. You are never to refer to him as anything other than 'Professor Lupin' when there is any chance at all that someone might overhear you. All right?" Alex nodded. Cass said, "Those clothes are all really ours?" "Yes, Miss Stratton, as long as they fit." Dumbledore smiled. "Hey, that's Miss Lennox to you, Headmaster." "Yes, yes, of course. Now, we need to head down to the Great Hall so I can formally introduce you to the rest of the school. It's not the ideal time, but it's what we have, so we shall have to work with it. We need to stop by my office on the way down, so I can fetch the Sorting Hat as well. Alexander, I'm sorry about the inconvenience, but you'll have to put on a British accent until after the meal, when you and Professor Lupin leave for Diagon Alley." "Wait, we're being sorted now?" Alex asked, slightly shocked. "Well, yes, I'm afraid we don't have much of a choice." Dumbledore looked apologetic. "If you say so," Alex muttered, frowning. "Oh, and I forgot to mention," Dumbledore said, pausing and turning around, "that we will be having a Yule Ball in a few days. You don't have to go, of course, but there are a few pairs of dress robes in your respective closets if you decide to." Cary and Alex sent each other dark looks. "Great, dancing," they muttered in unison. It didn't matter what Dumbledore said now, Cass herself would make sure they both went. And they both hated dancing.  
"What are they doing here?" Ginny watched in amazement as Dumbledore walked in the door to the Great Hall, followed by Professor Lupin, Cass, Cary, and Alex, the latter two looking more than a little wary. Cass however, looked considerably unperturbed. "Hi Harry," she chirped cheerfully as they passed the Gryffindor table. Harry just stared back. Apparently, he was as clueless about the new arrangement as she was. "Hi Draco," she chirped the same way, as they passed the Slytherin table. Ginny saw Blaise Zabini lean over and whisper something in Draco's ear, presumably asking who the hell she was. Draco whispered something tersely back. At that moment, Dumbledore started speaking, and Ginny turned her attention from Draco to the Headmaster, who was standing in the center of the floor in front of the four tables. "Students, if I may have your attention for a few moments," Dumbledore said loudly, looking patiently out on the sea of students. Slowly, the talking died away and Dumbledore cleared his throat. Ginny watched as people from every House craned their necks, trying to see who was with the headmaster. Lupin, she noticed, had taken his seat at the Staff Table. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my immense pleasure to introduce to you Cary and Cassandra Lennox, and Alexander Grey, who will be studying here for a semester. They will be sixth years, starting the end of the holidays. If you'll give them your attention, please, they need to be sorted. Please remember to be courteous to them at all times, they are our guests." "What the f--" Ginny began, as she heard the names Dumbledore said. Dean clapped a hand over her mouth before she could let loose the foul word. "Ask questions later, Gin," he murmured, always the calm one. She nodded slightly and Dean let his hand drop. In front of them, Dumbledore had set the Sorting Hat on a wooden stool and was stepping back. "Cassandra Lennox," he called out, giving her a pointed look. Slowly, she stepped forward, no longer looking cheerful. Now she looked terrified.  
Never had Cass had the experience of having so many eyes peering at her. She was suddenly glad. Looking around, trying to calm her quivering nerves, her eyes settled on a banner of a golden lion on a scarlet background. She remembered it, from the night before when she had met Dumbledore in his office, ahead of the others. She still thought it was beautiful. Focusing on it, she felt herself calming down slightly and she walked forward and put the hat on her head, sitting down on the stool. Instantly, the banner disappeared and was replaced with darkness. The hat was too big. "My, my, this is an interesting situation, isn't it? Never before have I been taken out in the middle of the year. Ah, but I see why...yes, yes I do..." The voice made her jump, but she calmed down when she realized it was the hat who was talking, a little voice speaking in her ear. "So, let's see. I suppose I should put you somewhere, but the question is where. There's bravery, I see, lots of it. You'd do well in Gryffindor I can see, but somehow, I don't think that's where you're supposed to go. I could put you in Hufflepuff, you're plenty loyal, but I do think that would be an even worse choice than old Godric's House. You have a good mind too, I can see that. And you're plenty ambitious, oh yes, very ambitious, aren't we? You're always being overshadowed by your twin brother and you have an unquenchable thirst to prove you're as smart and talented as he, am I right?" Yes, unfortunately, every bit of it is true, she thought. "Oh! And honest too, now aren't we quite the character? You know, I cannot believe how many people insist on denying things to me, when I can see inside their head. Maybe Gryffindor wouldn't be that bad of a choice... well, girl, what will it be? Any preferences?" Not really. "And indecisive to boot. You know, usually it's easy to place someone, even if they fit the description of every house. Do you know why? Because they want to be placed somewhere specific. Ah, well, if you don't really care...then I suppose it had better be SLYTHERIN!" Cass lifted the hat from her head and smiled as she saw the table to the left clapping loudly. She spotted Draco and sunk down in the seat next to him. "That was the most frightening experience of my life," she laughed. Draco smirked back. Looking back up at the floor, Cary now had the hat on. It only took a second for the hat to scream, "RAVENCLAW!" Cass felt a twinge of sadness as she watched her brother sit down at the table next to hers. Alex put the hat on and sat down. A moment later, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Cass watched as Alex sat down next to Ginny. He looked up and instantly their eyes met. He smiled hesitantly. She looked in Cary's direction and found him already looking at her. Slowly, he mouthed something, and gave her a sad look. Instantly, she knew what he was saying. After sixteen years of being twins, she could read his lips under any circumstances, and this time wasn't any exception: Dumbledore was right, they were being split up.  
The meal passed quickly enough, a blur of Shepard's pie (which was even better than Cass's) and infinite questions of the ordinary sort: Where are you from? What's your name again? Where did you go to school before now? Although, "Are you married to that girl that's with you?" was a new one. It was a new experience, mingling with people that would have been dead under any other circumstances. He asked them about the professors, the classes (while trying to sound nonchalant), even learned a few names. But Cary did have to admit, he was relieved when Dumbledore came over and fetched him away. "Mister Lennox, I would like to have a word with you." It took a few seconds for Cary to register that it was him the headmaster was taking to. Nodding briefly at his sister, who looked like she was having fun talking animatedly to Malfoy and someone else he didn't recognize, he followed Dumbledore out of the Great Hall and up several flights of stairs, finally stopping outside his office. Cary fiddled with the collar of his sweater, which he had flung over his arm. "Cary, I asked you up here because I need to talk to you about something important," Dumbledore said as he settled into the high-backed chair behind his desk. Cary sat down in the chair facing him. "Do you have that book still?" "You mean this one?" Cary brought out the book he'd found in the library at home, which he'd been keeping in his trouser pocket since it wasn't very big. It was amazing how long it felt since he'd found it. "Yes, that one. May I see it?" Dumbledore asked, looking over his half-moon spectacles at Cary. "Yes, of course." Cary handed it over. "Mister Lennox," Dumbledore said, putting particular emphasis on the last word, "do you know what this book is?" "It's a compilation of all the prophesies made in the last millennium. Or, the last millennium from our point in--oh my god!" Cary stood up abruptly and took the book from Dumbledore's hands, flipping to the last page he'd read. "Sybil Trelawney," he breathed. "Tell me I didn't just meet her. Tell me I'm mistaken and that this prophesy is not about us." He looked up at Dumbledore pleadingly, the meaning of that page and it's contents suddenly infinitely clearer. Dumbledore simply rested the bridge of his nose against his steepled fingers. Cary sank down in his seat slowly. "Cary, that book of yours is incredibly inaccurate. The prophesy printed in there isn't even close to the real prediction Madam Trelawney--yes, our Madam Trelawney--made several years ago. But I will not disclose what that particular prophesy actually said to you. Just know that the one in that book is unimaginably wrong." Dumbledore looked at him solemnly. Cary's shoulder's sagged slightly with relief, but a little voice was still hissing at him from the back of his mind, and he knew it was right. Something was wrong here, something Dumbledore wasn't saying. "Cary, I want you to tell me something. You know what lies in Mister Potter and the rest's future, correct?" "Yes," Cary said slowly, knowing what Dumbledore was about to ask of him. "Then I want you to tell me what happens to them."  
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm really not sure how to tell you that..." "Just start with Harry Potter. Take as much time as you need." Cary stared at his hands. How do you tell someone the fate of a person they care about? "During Harry Potter's seventh year at Hogwarts, the Great War escalated to an unimaginable amount of terror and chaos. People were being killed, controlled, and even more so, they were disappearing. I could name for you every single horrible thing that happened that year, but I won't, because it'll both take to long and horrify you besides which. Finally, in May of that year, Harry Potter had a final accounting with Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter came out the victor, defeating Voldemort permanently. A week after that, though, he was murdered by a vengeful Lucius Malfoy. He never even finished his seventh year." He looked up, aware that his voice had sounded hollow even to his own ears. It was a cruel truth he had been trying to avoid for the past twelve hours, but he was sure that he shouldn't tell anyone here about it. About it, or any of the rest of it either. Cass was simply ignoring it, he knew that, but he wasn't sure about Alex. He was never sure about Alex. Dumbledore had not moved. "And Draco Malfoy?" he asked tonelessly, still looking at his steepled hands. Cary sighed. "He was supposed to be the key person in the plot to kill Harry Potter. In fact, the entire plan revolved around him, as history tells it, but at the very last minute he backed out, though no one knows why, and because of it, the plan almost failed. It would have, in fact, if not for one factor: the fact that Lucius Malfoy was hell-bent on exacting revenge for his master. Draco Malfoy backed out of the plan and disappeared, naught to be seen ever again. In fact, they still don't know what happened to him. Or, well, in my...you know what I mean." Again, Dumbledore continued to stare at his hands. Cary looked at them too. They were old, possibly the only external indication on the old man's body just how old his hands really were, with very translucent skin that was freckled and scarred with age. The veins were sticking out, but somehow, they still looked strong. "I see," he said quietly, not moving. "What happened to Hermione Granger?" Again, Cary sighed. "She was the one who actually figured out the way to defeat Voldemort. She read through the entire Hogwarts library her sixth and seventh years, and finally cross referenced the right books, finding the one and only way to kill someone who has long since ceased to be human. If not for her, we might still be fighting the War. After she graduated, she married Ron Weasley and entered the Ministry of Magic. Their only child was named Harry, and she would have probably been named Minister of Magic in only a few short years if not for the fact that she was clinically insane long before she ever had a chance at it." "Ron Weasley?" "Suicide, when little Harry was only about four years old." "Ginny Weasley?" "Gave up her life for the liberation of the Wizarding World. The method Hermione Granger came up with for killing the Dark Lord involved the voluntary sacrifice of another human, and Ginny agreed to be the one. To this day, there is no evidence of why." "Is there anything known about Dean Thomas?" "The painter?" It took Cary a few seconds for him to register the connection. "Yes, yes, of course, Dean Thomas. He was a painter who tragically didn't manage to sell any of his work until well after his death. His most brilliant works were created after he locked himself in a room for a year upon hearing the news of Harry Potter's death. Sadly, he died fifty years later with nothing to show for what he did with his life." "Courtney Wirth?" "That name is only briefly mentioned in the history books, and only then as an example of what the War did to people. She disappeared not long after her sixth year at Hogwarts. The theory is she was in love with Harry Potter, but nothing can be proved." Dumbledore said nothing. Finally, he leaned back in his chair and looked Cary in the eye. "Mister Lennox, I want you to forget everything you just told me. Put it from your mind as best you can, for I promise you, you will not need it. None of what you just told me is true anymore, you have to understand. Oh, I'm sure it was when you still lived in your present, but you three have been sent back for a purpose, and there is no mistaking what that purpose was: to change those fates you just recited. Those futures will not happen anymore, so forget about them for now. It will simply drive you mad thinking about them anyway." His eyes sparkled with truth, and as Cary looked into them, he realized the headmaster was being honest, not just trying to calm him down. "Of course, sir," Cary replied, knowing he would not be able to forget anything, but be satisfied with the knowledge that it was now incorrect information. "Oh, and one more thing, Mister Lennox," Dumbledore said, now staring at the fire that was going in the grate. "Yes, Headmaster?" "That book of yours. You understand how dangerous that information is in this period of time, right?" Still Dumbledore stared at the fire, the flames creating moving shadows on his aged face. "Of course sir. How could I not?" "Then you will understand why it is I do this." He picked the book up off the desk and closed it gently, looking at the cover briefly before he tossed it into the flames. Cary did not respond. In truth, he'd been expecting it for some time now and was slightly glad it was gone. "Thank you, sir," he murmured as he picked his sweater up from the arm of the chair he'd been sitting in and walked towards the door. He was glad he'd had his talk with Dumbledore, it had helped to soothe a lot of misgivings he'd had before. Indeed, only twelve hours of brooding over the thought of what was to happen to the people had just met had been horrible. He was unbelievably grateful to the Headmaster for what he'd said. It caused him to wonder, however, when Cary watches a tear roll down the headmaster's cheek as he closed the door to the office behind him.  
It had been an interesting experience to Draco, watching someone his age get sorted. Of course, it had even been slightly funny, in a really sadistic sort of way, seeing her face pale from fear as she realized everyone's eyes were on her. Then again, that was probably just Draco's sick sense of humor. She sat down next to him, sighing with relief. "That was the most frightening experience of my life," she said, laughing. She had obviously forgotten that'd he'd snapped at her earlier. He was glad, it meant he didn't have to apologize. Draco smirked, looking at her face. Now that he had a chance to look at her closely, he realized she didn't look exactly like the girl from his dreams. It was still the same person, obviously, but there were small differences. There were a few blemishes on her face, not horrible ones, just a few small ones on her nose and along her hairline. She had freckles, too, whereas the girl in his dreams had had flawless skin that was perfectly pale. She slouched, as opposed to the perfect posture her subliminal twin had had, and her hands, were different as well, though he couldn't name why. In other words, Draco thought, she's human. The biggest difference he noticed, however, was her laugh. It had been too perfect in his dreams. Now it was more real, with less of a surrealistic quality to it. He liked her laugh though, he noticed. It was rich and clear and highly contagious. "You know, if you paint a picture, you can at least hang it up in your room," came a slightly mocking voice, interrupting his thoughts. "Except that it'd give me a perfectly good target for playing darts, and my mother doesn't like holes in the walls," Draco replied coolly, directing his attention back to the piece of Shepard's pie on his plate. "Oh, well don't I feel special. You'd rather use me than Harry Potter," she shot back, grinning for all her sarcastic words. "So you noticed that, huh?" Draco asked, amused. "Noticed what? That you hate each other? How could I not? It's not exactly hard to spot." Draco sniggered. "True enough, I suppose. So, what did the Sorting Hat say to you?" he asked conversationally. "Probably that Draco Malfoy has the worst manners money can afford," came an exasperated voice from Draco's other side. "Honestly Malfoy, were you planning on introducing her to anyone besides your overly-inflated ego?" Cass sniggered. "Zabini, why must you always announce the fact that you're an ass?" Draco said, sighing. "Actually, I believe I was announcing that you're an ass, not me. Though, that hardly needs announcing," Zabini added as an afterthought. "I'm Blaise Zabini, by the way," he said, leaning around Draco and holding out his hand. When Cass did the same, he simply touched his lips to the back of her hand. "Now, how is it that someone as obviously intelligent as you came to know this oaf?" He gestured toward Malfoy. Cass giggled. Zabini was a thin boy, with olive skin and dark, curly hair, which Cass all found not unattractive. However, she did not know how to answer his question. "The Lennox family has been friends of the Malfoy's for decades," Draco cut in smoothly, noticing Cass's predicament. "Oh, really?" Zabini said. "Why haven't you ever attended any of the Malfoy functions, then? I swear, I've never seen you before." Cass took it from Draco. "My parents are always traveling on business, and we grew up studying under a private tutor in London. We've just never really left London. This year, he thought it would be a good idea for us to have a semester at regular Wizarding School, so we'll be here until the end of the year." She made a quick mental note to tell Cary the new developments on their "family background". "I see," Zabini said. "What about the other two? Who are they?" "The one that went into Ravenclaw was my twin brother, Cary. The other one was Alex, a friend who lives with his uncle. The uncle is never home either, so he was sent to our tutor as well." Cass pointed them out as she said this. "I see. Well, welcome to Slytherin House, er... What did you say your name was?" "Cass Str--Lennox." "Alright, then welcome to Slytherin House, Cass Lennox. This is Ted Nott," he gestured to a boy across the table who had a mop of light brown hair and bright blue eyes. He looked up from the book he was reading briefly and nodded. "Pansy Parkinson," he pointed at a rather unattractive girl who had been watching her conversation with Draco and hadn't liked it, "Millicent Bulstrode," a very large girl who had a smile that was more like a grimace, "Morag MacDougal," a very lanky boy with stringy hair that simply blinked at her, "Lisabeth Moon," a small girl with sad looking hazel eyes and very dark red hair, "and Greg Goyle and Vince Crabbe," Zabini finished, pointing at two very large boys who looked more like boulders than actual humans. "Hello," she said quietly, suddenly noticing that with the exception of Lisabeth Moon, they could all probably beat her up. "These are all sixth years, the rest you'll meet later but shouldn't worry about for now," Zabini explained. Just then, a very familiar looking Asian girl walked over. "Zabini, do you have my Potions book? I need it." "This is Courtney Wirth," Zabini explained unnecessarily, ignoring her question. "She's a Ravenclaw, but she likes to think she's a Slytherin." "Hi Cass," Courtney said, smiling for the first time and ignoring Zabini. "Are you feeling better? I was talking to your brother and he said he feels great." "Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better," she said, feeling several sets of curious eyes fall on her simultaneously. "That's good." Courtney smiled again. "By the way, Zabini likes to think he's a big shot, but he's not, believe me. Actually, he's a baby, and I've beaten him up repeatedly in the recent past." She smirked. "Hey--" Zabini started to object, his cheeks going pink. "Zabini!" Courtney suddenly snapped. "Give me my bloody book!" "But I haven't finished with it--" "Doesn't matter, Zabini, give it up!" "My, but you'd think they were married, wouldn't you?" Draco asked, mock pleasantly. Cass got the impression Draco didn't exactly like Courtney much either. "Shove it, Malfoy," Courtney snapped at him. It appeared that the feeling was mutual. "You always were the eloquent one, weren't you?" "Go to hell Malfoy," Courtney said icily as she walked away with her book, which Zabini had given up reluctantly. "It's always fun ruffling Wirth's feathers," Draco said arrogantly, starting in on a slice of pecan pie. "Why do you hate her so much?" Cass asked him. "Because she's as arrogant as he is, no doubt," chortled Nott, who had finally emerged from the book he was reading. "Bugger off, Nott," Draco snapped. "What do you mean?" Cass asked him, ignoring Draco. "Oh, just that Courtney Wirth is the only person in Hogwarts with as big of an ego as Malfoy, and it bothers him. She's not arrogant about the same things, certainly. I mean, her parents aren't rich and she's not a pureblood, but she may very well be the smartest person at Hogwarts and she knows it. Even Hermione Granger is jealous of her."  
"So your name is Alex, right?" "Yeah," Alex said slowly, responding to the giggling blonde sitting in front of him. "Alex, this is Lavender Brown," Harry said, introducing her in a tone of voice that suggested she did this a lot. "Hello," he said as politely as he could. She giggled and ran off down the table, sitting down next to another girl who she started whispering into the ear of immediately. He saw her point at him. "Don't worry, she does that all the time. She'd do that to Goyle if he was smart enough to respond," Harry joked. "Don't be mean, Harry," Hermione reprimanded, who felt she had to defend Lavender for the simple reason of having lived in the same room with her for six years. "Sorry Hermione," Harry responded automatically, still smiling. "Where's Ron?" Hermione asked Harry. "I don't know, he said he had to do something in the library..." Alex tuned out the conversation as he looked around. He'd already been introduced to everyone, even the little first and second years that'd been too shy to say anything. Already, he felt comfortable. He would have felt at home, even, if not for the fact that his two best friends were not with him. Almost as if it'd been timed, Cary stood up from the Ravenclaw table and followed Dumbledore out the doors. Alex got up from the table and made to follow him, but was stopped as Cass intercepted him and put a firm hand on his chest. "I don't think you should follow them, Alex." "Why not?" "Did Dumbledore ask to talk to you? No, he asked to talk to Cary. That's why." "Where do you think they're going?" Alex asked, still looking at the doors through which they'd left. Cass looked at them too. "I don't know, but for some reason, I've got a bad feeling about it," she said softly as Alex put his arm across her shoulders and squeezed. 


End file.
